


For If Dreams Die

by veritas_st



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Erica and Boyd are alive, M/M, Scott is human, The Hale family is alive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 20:57:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12566036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritas_st/pseuds/veritas_st
Summary: “I had a dream about a boy last night,” Mischief says through a mouthful of pancakes.  His dad points the spatula at him and he swallows before he says anything else.  “His name was Derek.  He called me Stiles.  I want to be called that from now on.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maraudersourwolf](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersourwolf/gifts).



> Title taken from the poem Dreams by Langston Hughes.
> 
> There are some major changes to canon here. Stiles and Derek are 3 years apart. Scott is human. Claudia Stilinski dies when Stiles is 12. But considering Jeff Davis doesn't seem to know what age Stiles was when she died how can I!? The Hale family are all still alive. 
> 
> Based on the amazing prompt from maraudersourwolf. Kid!verse Sterek  
> Stiles is a kid with far more imagination than anyone else. One week he believes he's an alien, another one he's a superheroe, maybe next one he's gonna be a supernatural hunter, who knows? So when he tells his momma and pappa that he dreamed of this beautiful kid that he's sure it's his soulmate and they're gonna share toys and his reeses' bits and do nap time together and even get married someday, well he's just imagining things, right?  
> That's until wednesday when a new kid named Derek Hale arrives. And for everyone's surprise, Derek dreamt about Stiles too.
> 
> I have taken it and run with it a little. I hope you like it!
> 
> Betaed...as always...by the incredible and amazing mrstotten

A dream you dream alone  
Is only a dream  
A dream you dream together  
Is reality  
\- John Lennon

 

Mischief Aged 5, Derek Aged 8

~~~

Mischief

~~~

Mischief Man jumps from the building, flying through the air and landing on the ground effortlessly. He cackles, standing tall and pointing his Mischief Gun at Boring Man. Boring Man hides and Mischief Man manages to escape, once again, back to his Mischief Cave, riding through the streets of Beacon-Topia on the back of his Mischief Mobile. 

“Mischief, wash your hands for dinner.” 

Mischief Man wrinkles his nose but ignores the call from his home planet, his gun still hanging from his hands. 

“Mieczyslaw, now please.” 

Mieczyslaw Stilinski, also known as Mischief, sighs and drops his cardboard gun. His cape drops to the floor as he runs down the hallway to the bathroom to wash his hands. 

His mom smiles at him as he clambers into his chair and grins down at his mac and cheese dinner. There’s peas nestled between the macaroni elbows and Mischief dips the tip of his finger into the ketchup, drizzled in the shape of a smiley face. 

“Who are we today, baby?” His mom asks and Mischief swallows a mouthful of mac and cheese, his little feet swinging. 

“Mischief Man,” he replies, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth. His mom smiles and Mischief’s chest warms. 

“Did you defeat Boring Man?” She asks and he shakes his head. “Did food get in the way?” He nods and she laughs, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “Sorry baby. I’ll read Peter and the Wolf tonight to make it up to you.” 

~~~

He’s warm in bed, his mom a line of heat against his small thigh, she’s got her arm around his back, her hand warm against his elbow and he feels safe. Her voice lulls him to sleep, he feels his eyes drooping. She closes the book and tugs him down, tucks the duvet around him and under his feet. 

“So the wolves don’t nibble your toes,” she says and he nods sleepily. 

“Not afraid of wolves.” 

“I know. Dream happy baby, big day tomorrow. First day of school.” 

~~~

_He’s on the top of a skyscraper overlooking Beacon-Topia, his feet dangling over the edge, his cape catching the breeze and flapping behind him. A boy has appeared, older than him and Mischief knows he’s never seen him before. He stares at the boy who returns the stare and then smiles, one eyebrown cocking up as he walks over and sits down next to him. He’s got dark hair and eyes a colour that Mischief can’t describe yet._

_“Who are you?” Mischief asks, and the boy turns to him._

_“I’m Derek, who are you?”_

_“Miec...Michy...Mischief Stil...Stile...ski,” he grins finally and the boy wrinkles his nose._

_“I can’t say that,” Derek swings his own feet over the streetlamp filled streets of Beacon-Topia. “I’ll call you Stiles.” Something warm blooms in Mischief’s chest. “Where are we?” Derek asks, looking down on the town._

_“Beacon-Topia,” Mischief says proudly, standing up on the tall buildings ledge and spreading his arms wide. Derek stands with him and curls small fingers around Stiles’ smaller wrists._

_“Careful,” Derek says, tugging Mischief back from the ledge. Mischief shakes his head._

_“I’m alright, I’m brave.” Mischief feels the need to be a grown up for this older boy standing in front of him. Derek laughs but it’s not mean and Mischief wants to laugh with him._

_“I know you are,” he says and Mischief grins and grabs Derek’s hand._

_“I’ll show you around.” Mischief flies over the town, his cape streaming out behind him and Derek looks down in awe, eyes wide. He smiles at Mischief and Mischief wants to be friends with him forever._

_“This was the best dream ever,” Derek says as Mischief lands them back on the building's roof. His face is flushed, cheeks red with glee and Mischief wants to hug him. He looks down at his feet and Derek takes a step towards him. “What’s the matter Stiles?” Mischief likes the sound of that new name as it falls from Derek’s mouth._

_“I start school tomorrow,” he says and Derek curls their fingers together._

_“It’s ok. School’s fine.” Mischief nods and bites on his bottom lip. “Want me to be there with you?” Mischief nods again, this time smiling up at the older boy. “Ok, just remember this.” Derek leans forward and presses a kiss to the side of Mischief’s mouth, just like his mom does and Mischief presses his fingers to it. “Remember that and I’ll be there.”_

~~~

Mischief wakes with his fingers still pressed to his mouth and the smell of his dad’s pancakes floating up from the kitchen. 

His mom sticks her head round the door. “Big day baby, come on get some breakfast.” 

“I had a dream about a boy last night,” Mischief says through a mouthful of pancakes. His dad points the spatula at him and he swallows before he says anything else. “His name was Derek. He called me Stiles. I want to be called that from now on.” His mom looks across the kitchen at his dad. His dad shrugs. 

“Ok then, Stiles. More pancakes?” 

~~~ 

The school is bigger than he realised and as his mom hops out of the car to his side Stiles presses his fingers to the corner of his mouth. 

“Derek?”

“ _Stiles?_ ” 

“Just checking you’re here.” Stiles says and he hears Derek laugh. 

“ _Of course, you’ll be fine._ ”

“Ready to go baby?” His mom pulls open the car door and Stiles nods. 

“Remember my name is Stiles now?” He takes her hand and she nods down at him. 

“Ok Stiles. Let’s go, big boy.” 

~~~

Derek

~~~ 

“ _Derek?_ ” Derek hears the little voice in his head. The voice of the little boy, Stiles, from his dream last night. He frowns, his toothbrush poised in his hand. 

“Stiles?”

“ _Just checking you’re here,_ ” Stiles says and he sounds scared. Derek spits out the toothpaste into the sink. 

“Of course,” he says out loud to his own reflection in the mirror. “You’ll be fine.” The voice is gone as soon as it arrives and Derek finishes brushing his teeth, Laura’s voice coming through the door in time with her knocks. 

“Derek,” knock, “hurry,” knock, “up.” Knock. 

He pulls the door open to find his 10 year old sister Laura looking cross, her arms folded over her chest. Derek sticks his tongue out at her, growling low, and Cora giggles from behind her. Stiles looked abot the same age as Cora and Derek drops his hand to the top of her head as he passes. 

His legs still feel light from his dream last night, the night time flight over Stiles’ made up city. The one he protected from Boring Man. Derek snorts out a laugh, remembering the glee in the little boy's face, the brightness of his amber eyes when Derek pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He still doesn’t know why he did that, the need to reassure the little boy had been so overwhelming. 

“Come along puppies, you’ll be late for school.” His mother shouts from the bottom of the stairs and Laura comes out of the bathroom with a flourish. Derek holds his hand out to Cora, she takes it and it feels tiny in his. He remembers Stiles’ hand safe in his last night and squeezes Cora’s briefly, helping his little sister down the stairs. 

She slides into the window seat on the bus and Derek slides in next to her, nudges her shoulder and swears he hears Stiles introduce himself to someone in his head. 

~~~ 

Part of him should be worried, part of him should be questioning the little voice in his head that sounds like a boy he met in his dream. The voice that answers back loud and clear with a tone that sounds older somehow than the 5 year old he dreamt up.

But the part of him that remembers the small hand in his, the quiet, scared voice this morning, that part never wants to let the dream go. 

“How was your first day?” he says outloud to the stick on glow moon and stars on his ceiling. 

“ _It was great, the teacher was really nice and there was a nice girl called Heather there. Is Heather a flower?_ ” 

“I think so,” he says, smiling to himself. Stiles sounds happy and tired.

“ _She’s pretty like a flower._ ” Derek laughs lightly and yawns. 

“Night Stiles.” 

“ _Night Derek_.” 

~~~

Stiles

~~~

Stiles picks at the fraying edge of his cape. He frowns. 

“What’s up baby?” His mom asks and Stiles sighs. 

“My cape is broken,” he sulks and his mom’s soft hands reach to touch the fabric he’s holding out. She runs her fingers over it and grins up at Stiles. 

“I’ll fix it,” she unhooks it from his shoulders. “Want it perfect for Trick or Treating tonight.” 

“Is dad coming?” Stiles asks hopefully. His mom looks a little sadly at him. 

“He’s got to work darling. But he’ll be here in the morning so you can show him all the loot Mischief Man got. Ok?” 

“Ok...I’m going to play in my room.” His mom nods absently, her eyes fixed on the needle and thread in her hands and Stiles climbs the stairs to his room. He shuts the door quietly and shuts his eyes. “Derek?” 

“ _Hey Stiles,_ ” the voice sounds almost immediately and Stiles grins to himself. 

“You going trick or treating tonight?” He asks, hopping onto his bed and crossing his legs, pulling out his copy of Peter and the Wolf and flicking through the pages to his favourite picture. 

“ _Yeah, going as Wolverine. My costumes going to be so cool_ ,” Derek sounds so excited and Stiles runs his fingers over the illustration in front of him. There’s a wolf lurking between the trees and Peter, dressed in a red sweater, is talking to the ducks in the clearing where his grandfather's house sits. Stiles has never been scared of the wolf in the drawings. 

“Cool,” Stiles says back and he hears Derek laugh. 

“ _Are you going as Mischief Man?_ ”

“Yup, mom’s fixing the cape now. Shall I see you later to show you my candy?” 

“ _Sure, see you later._ ” Stiles can almost feel when Derek goes, it’s like he’s talking on a walkie talkie, like the one Stiles dad had got him that he uses to talk to him when he’s on duty sometimes, the crackle of noise just stops. Stiles smiles and shuts his book. He hops off the bed and pulls the rest of his Mischief Man costume out from under his bed. 

~~~

Derek

~~~

Derek is cross. How could his mom get it so wrong? 

“Derek, honey, I’m sorry.” She crouches down in front of him and takes his hands in her own. He frowns. 

“Why would I want to be a werewolf when I’m already one?” Derek asks and he can see his mom is trying not to laugh. Laura is not even trying and is standing behind her laughing. Cora has a thumb in her mouth and looks sad for Derek. 

“I misunderstood, love.” Derek sighs. He was so clear, Wolverine, not a werewolf. He wouldn’t even need a costume for that. He could just let his his small fangs and claws grow. Of course he doesn’t have enough control over it yet so he’d probably have to get his mom to use her Alpha growl on him just to turn back. He frowns again. 

“It’s ok, I guess.”

“You look good though honey, I know it’s not what you wanted but next year, I promise, I’ll get it right.” His mom kisses his forehead and stands. “Right, who’s ready?” Cora takes her thumb out of her mouth and raises her hand, her face breaking out into a grin and his mom takes her hand. “Let’s go.” 

~~~

_”That’s not Wolverine,” Stiles says and Derek frowns again. They’re in a clearing in the woods and the moon is bright and full. Even in his dream Derek can feel the pull of it. Stiles has his Mischief Man cape on and a grin on his face that’s a mile wide._

_“Mom got it wrong, she thought I said wolf,” he can feel his face falling and his eyebrows drawing together as he frowns. Stiles takes a step forward, the small bucket in his hands has a bright red M on the front of it and even from here Derek can see the candy that’s piled into it._

_“You make a good wolf,” Stiles says and reaches out to touch the fake fangs that Derek’s wearing. Derek bears his teeth and Stiles giggles. Derek smiles with him for a second but then frowns again. “Don’t be such a sour wolf.”_

_“I’m not,” Derek sulks and Stiles laughs again._

_“Mischief Man and the Sour Wolf.” Stiles pokes him with a small finger in the middle of his chest. Derek growls slightly and Stiles giggles again, snatching his hand back. Derek feels his bad mood lift slightly. He wants to tell Stiles, wants to show him who he really is, he thinks he might have better control over his shift in his dreams but he doesn’t want to scare Stiles. He stops the words from coming by peering into Stiles’ bucket._

_“What have you got there?”_

_“So much,” Stiles plonks himself on the floor of the wood and crosses his legs, tipping the contents of the bucket out onto the leaves. Derek sits down in front of him. “Look.”_

_Stiles looks across at Derek with a look that Derek can’t comprehend right now but he never wants Stiles to look at him with any other expression._

_“Good job,” he says and Stiles looks proud, his small hands already starting to fill the bucket back up._

_“So what are we going to do tonight?” Stiles asks and Derek grins at him._

_“Whatever you want.” Derek says and has the feeling he would always give Stiles whatever he wanted._


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles Aged 8, Derek Aged 11 

~~~

Stiles 

~~~

Stiles fidgets, the tie his mom made him wear is too tight and it's hot out. He tugs on it. He doesn’t even remember the people getting married but his mom says he knows them and she looks happy and she hasn’t looked happy for a while so Stiles tugs on his tie once more and stills. 

His dad’s got his hand wrapped around his mom's and his mom has her other arm around Stiles. She leans down and kisses his temple. 

He dances with his mom later, loving the smile on her face and she laughs, breathless as his dad takes over and dips her low. 

In the car on the way home, Stiles feels his eyes go heavy. 

“Mom?” His mom looks back at him. “Do boys always have to marry girls? Or can boys marry boys?” His mom smiles gently, his dad coughs. “I’m going to marry Derek because I love him. He’s awesome and he’s smart. He does real Math you know? And he’s like real funny. And he growls like a wolf sometimes and it sounds like an real wolf. Can I do that? Can I marry Derek?” 

“Baby, if they make you happy and make you smile, and make you feel like you’re the most important person in the room, you can marry whoever you want.” His mom reaches across the space between her and his dad and takes his hand in her. His dad lifts it to his lips and kisses her knuckles. 

Stiles feels sad all of a sudden. He knows his parents don’t realise he sees, but his mom is sick and the way his dad is looking at her right now makes Stiles want to cry. 

“ _Stiles,_ ” the voice in his head is worried, like Derek can feel that Stiles is sad. 

“I’m ok,” he whispers quietly to the streetlamps. If his parents hear, they don’t turn around, they must be used to Stiles talking to himself by now. He’s been talking to Derek for years. 

“ _I’m going to show you something cool tonight_ ,” Derek says in his head and Stiles smiles, he knows Derek can feel it. 

~~~

Derek

~~~

_Stiles still looks 5, he’s never aged. Derek assumes he hasn’t either. Stiles looks tiny against the tall trees of the wood. Derek reaches out to him and they curl their fingers together._

_“You sure you’re ok?” Derek asks as they trudge through the undergrowth. He holds a branch out of the way for Stiles. The stars twinkle above them, the moon bright and full, as it always is in their dreams._

_“Mom’s sick,” Stiles says and Derek frowns._

_“How sick?”_

_“I don’t know,” he shrugs and Derek tugs him close. “She’s sad.” Derek nods and tucks Stiles into his side. He stays there for a while, close, his breathing even and Derek rests his chin on the top of his head. Stiles moves eventually and Derek lets him go. “What are you showing me?”_

_“This,” Derek pushes aside some branches and Stiles stoops to walk under them, emerging out into the clearing that Derek had found a few days earlier. The enormous trunk of the old tree stands in the middle, the moonlight reflecting off the almost polished flat surface of the stump. He’d stumbled across it on a walk with his dad and Derek had immediately thought of Stiles, how Stiles would make up some story about why it had been cut down. He could almost see Stiles standing in the middle, twirling on the stump, his arms out stretched. “Stiles would like this,” he had said to his dad. His dad had just smiled, a little confused, a little indulgently, ushing Derek away from the tree._

_“Wow,” Stiles breathes and Derek has long since given up trying to explain why this little boy inhabits his dreams, why he can seemingly talk to him when he’s awake, why they never age. He’s given up trying to comprehend how they just instantly cared about each other. How Derek knows he would fight a whole pack of Alphas single handedly to keep Stiles safe._

_“Why do you think they cut it down?” He asks as Stiles clambers onto the stump. Derek sits on the warm earth, crossing his legs and looking up as Stiles spins on the spot, just like Derek knew he would._

_“Maybe it was too powerful,” Stiles says, crouching and pressing his tiny palm to the wood. “Maybe the good witches wanted to keep the bad witches from using it,” Stiles grins across at Derek. “Maybe…”_

_“I knew you’d know,” Derek laughs and Stiles grins wider._

_“I wonder how old it is,” Stiles crawls to the outer edge of the stump and begins counting. Derek laughs again._

_“You can’t count that high,” Stiles looks up from his fingers on the wood and glares._

_“Can too,” he sticks his tongue out “I’m 8 now, you know” and Derek feels a swell of love for the tiny boy, a swell that takes him completely by surprise._

_“Stiles?” Derek starts, “we’re friends right?”_

_“Best friends,” Stiles replies, his brow wrinkling, “lost count.”_

_“Are you real?” Stiles looks up again, a flicker of confusion crosses his face._

_“Yes…” he hops down from the tree stump, lands in front of Derek. “Are you?” He’s crouching in front of Derek on all fours, leaning forward, his face close to Derek, like he’s inspecting Derek. He cocks his head to one side and he seems, and is suddnely older than the 5 he looks. Derek nods and Stiles grins suddenly, wide and brilliant, leans forward even more and presses a kiss to Derek’s nose. “Good...come run with me, Sour Wolf.” He stands and holds his tiny hand out to Derek. Derek takes it and hauls himself to his feet, wiping the leaves from his back of his jeans. Stiles sprints off around the tree stump as fast as his little legs will carry him and Derek runs after him, howling like a wolf as Stiles shrieks in delight._

~~~

 _”There’s a new boy in my class,_ ” Stiles says in his head. It’s late and a hush has fallen over his home. Nothing but the noise of the summer crickets fills his bedroom. Crickets and Stiles. Derek smiles to himself. “ _He says you’re not real._ ” The smile fades. 

“Well he’s stupid,” Derek replies, locking his fingers together under his head. He gazes up at the stars on his ceiling. 

“ _He’s nice_ ” Stiles insists, his voice a little older now and Derek wonders if he will have aged when he next sees him in a dream. “ _I think he’s my friend_.” Derek frowns a little. 

“I’m your friend,” he says and he hears Stiles laugh. 

“ _Of course you are dummy. But I can have two friends._ ”

“I suppose,” Derek replies, but he feels his chest burn with jealousy. This kid, who could be a thousand miles away, who could be a complete figment of his imagination, has become so important to him that Derek hates the idea of sharing him. 

“ _Hey,_ ” Stiles says, soft in his head, a voice full of worry and comfort, “ _it’s Mischief Man and Sour Wolf till the wheels come off, k_?” Derek huffs out a little laugh. 

“Till the wheels come off?” 

“ _My mom says it, I dunno what it means but the wheels on my bike are still on so…_ ” Stiles’ voice trails off and Derek lapses into silence, a quiet buzz in the back of his brain telling him Stiles is still there. 

The last thing he hears is Stiles muttering, sleepily _“night Sour Wolf_. 

~~~

Stiles

~~~

Stiles wakes to the sound of hushed voices. 

He instantly feels worried and creeps out of bed to listen at his door. 

“It’s ok,” he hears his dad mutter and it’s coming from the bathroom. There’s light spilling down the hallway from the ajar door. 

“It’s not ok,” his mom replies and Stiles can hear sadness in her voice. “It’s not.” 

“We’ll get a second opinion, we’ll go see that doctor that Melissa was talking about, we’ll…” 

“What? Make ourselves bankrupt chasing something that doesn’t exist?” Stiles feels his heart beating loudly in his chest and he wants to go to his parents, wants to curl up into his mom's lap and press his face to her shoulder, breathe in the scent of her shampoo. “What about Stiles?” He hears a choked off sob and Stiles wrinkles his nose and closes his door quietly. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, his young mind can’t comprehend but he knows it’s something bad and he wants to see Derek. He crawls back under his covers, pulls them over his head and tries to ignore the prickle of tears in his eyes. He squeezes them shut and wills himself to sleep. 

~~~ 

_”Hey, what’s that matter?” Derek holds his arms out and Stiles is in them in a second. “You smell sad.”_

_“I do?” Stiles sniffs, curling his tiny fingers into Derek’s Wolverine pajamas. Derek cups a hand at the back of Stiles’ head. They’re in the woods, at the edge of a cliff, and Beacon-Topia lies beneath them and Stiles wonders when their dream places became one._

_“What happened?” Derek asks, his voice echoing in Stiles’ ear where it’s pressed to his chest._

_“I think mom’s really sick,” he replies and hates how little he sounds. He knows in their dreams Stiles is still 5 but he hates that he sounds like that. He wants to see what Derek looks like now, if he’s still got the same colour to his eyes, or if he’s growing into his eyebrows._

_“How sick?”_

_“Real sick,” Stiles replies, removing himself from Derek’s arms. “Dad’s sad.” Derek frowns but nods and reaches out to curl his fingers with Stiles’._

_“Shall we go see the tree?” Stiles nods, feeling a little better as Derek winds them through the trees to the clearing with the giant tree stump. Stiles climbs on top of it and sits cross legged. Derek follows him and sits in front of him. Their knees touch._

_The tree glows, soft golden light spilling between the cracks in the stump and Stiles looks across at Derek._

_“What’s happening?” Derek asks and Stiles smiles._

_“Magic.”_

~~~

Derek

~~~

Derek wakes with a start, his chest tight and the smell of ozone lingers in his nose. He remembers the tree glowing, he remembers Stiles’ knees pressed to his, the wonder in Stiles’ voice as he breathed out the word “magic”. He remembers feeling like the world was opening to them and he can’t quite understand what that means. He shakes his head and the buzz in the back of his brain is quiet. 

He remembers smelling Stiles’ unhappiness and that had been the first time he’d done that. _Chemosignals_ his mother calls them. Stiles had smelt off, different than the usual earthy, childish smell, he’d smelt sour somehow. Derek wrinkles his nose and hopes that he never smells that again. 

He remembers wanting to take Stiles’ pain, but it had been emotional pain and he didn’t know if he could take that, or even if he could take any kind of pain yet. But there had been a longing in him to take Stiles’ hurt from him. 

Then the tree had glowed and he’d woken. 

“Derek?” His mom pops her head around his door frame, “Are you ok? What are you doing awake?” 

“I had a dream,” Derek says and he’s given up wondering how his mom is so finely tuned to their heartbeats that the slightest change wakes her. 

“A bad one?” She asks, sitting on the side of his bed and running a hand through his hair. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Want to tell me about it?” She asks and folds her hands in her lap. 

“There was tree,” he starts and he sees his mom sit up straighter. “Stiles was there.” 

“Stiles,” his mom nods and smiles at him. 

“I talk to him mom, when I’m awake,” Derek looks up at her. “Is that weird?” She shrugs a little, reaching out and takes his hand in her own. She runs her fingers across his knuckles. 

“Perhaps to some people,” she replies.

“His mom’s sick. He was sad.” Derek feels a knot in his chest. “Can we take away sadness like we can pain?” His mom shakes her head sadly. 

“Only mates can do that. One day you’ll be able to take someone’s sadness.” 

“I can’t take Stiles’ sadness. He’s not even real.” Derek says and his mom cups her hand around his cheek. It’s warm and Derek gets a waft of her lavender hand cream. 

“If he’s real to you, that’s enough.” 

“The tree glowed,” Derek says and his mom looks at him intently. “It...Stiles said it was magic.” There’s something on his mom's face that Derek can’t understand and she leans over to kiss him on the forehead. 

“Magic can happen in dreams. Go back to sleep, honey.” 

Derek falls back to sleep with his mom's words ringing in his head. 

_If he’s real to you, that’s enough._


	3. Chapter 3

Stiles Aged 12, Derek Aged 15 

~~~

Stiles

~~~

“So how’s she doing?” Scott asks and Stiles shrugs, his juice box in his hands. There’s still a lingering hint of Derek in the back of his mind and Stiles wants to sleep, wants to see him again. 

“I dunno. They don’t tell me much,” Stiles says and Scott frowns. Scott has been great, listening when needed, offering brief, fierce hugs and Stiles loves him like a brother sometimes. He sees sadness in Scott’s eyes too and he loves him even more for that. Scott’s mom, Melissa, comes round nearly every day, offering options, making tea and they’ve both become such an integral part of the Stilinski’s lives that Stiles doesn’t know where his family ends and Scott’s begins. 

“You know you can come stay with me whenever right? Mom said it was fine,” Scott breaks off and tugs his inhaler out of his pocket. His asthma’s been getting worse lately and Stiles hates that he has to worry about that as well. 

“I know. Thanks, buddy.” 

Stiles dreamt with Derek last night. It’s nearly every night now but last night they were older than they usually are, older than 5 and 8, closer he thinks to their real age. Derek growing into his limbs and Stiles knew he still looked gangly and too skinny. Derek had grinned though, pulled Stiles into a hug that had lingered a little too long and Stiles doesn’t know the feeling in his stomach when he thinks about it. He doesn’t understand but he wants to feel it again. 

There’s too much going on in his life right now and Stiles just wants it all to stop, wants to sleep and see Derek and run through the woods with him. Wants to sit, face to face on top of the old cut down tree in the middle of the dream clearing. He suddenly remembers the night when it started glowing, all those years ago and shakes his head. 

“You ok?” Scott asks and Stiles swallows, looks up from his sandwich and nods. 

“Yeah,” he breathes and even to him it sounds unconvincing. Scott frowns but shrugs. 

“Listen, gotta get to Chem, but see you later?” Stiles just nods as Scott grabs his bag and is gone. There’s a buzz at the back of his head. 

“ _Stiles?”_ Derek’s voice is worried, older, deeper than when they first met and Stiles can’t help but smile slightly. 

“Hey,” he mutters quickly and quietly. He’s got used to the odd looks that he gets every now and then, sitting in the lunch hall talking to himself but people excuse a hell of a lot when your mom’s dying. 

“ _You feel sad_ ” Derek says and Stiles wants to touch him. His fingers itch. 

“M’okay,” he mutters and the new girl next to him gives him a quick glance and moves away. “Gotta go.” 

“ _Talk later_ ”

Stiles has been dreaming with Derek for seven years now and he used to wonder when it would stop. When he would stop talking to the imaginary boy in his dreams but Derek seems so real and Stiles can hear him when he’s awake. He’s long since given up trying to work out what it all means. Derek just gets him and sometimes Stiles thinks he might be his other half. Sometimes he thinks he loves Derek more than a friend. He remembers telling his mom years ago that he was going to marry Derek and sometimes, in his lonely dreams, the ones without Derek, he dreams about that. About a ring on his finger, gold and smooth. Hears the noise of family in a house he’s never seen, sees the shining of a bright moon and low distant growls mixed with laughter, it feels like home.

He’s never wondered if Derek was real, he’s always know he was, but sometimes Derek questions it, sits with his hands wrapped around Stiles’, both of them still so young, and he stares into Stiles’ eyes as if he’s trying to convince himself that Stiles is real. 

Stiles used to know if it was his dream or Derek’s dream they were in, but lately he doesn’t know, he doesn’t care either. Their dreams mingle together, their dreamscapes becoming one place, their place. 

The school bell rings, breaking Stiles out of his reverie and Stiles grabs his bag, shoves his books into it and trudges off to History. 

~~~~~

_”How do you always know when I’m sad?” Stiles ask and Derek stops, mid step, the moon casting his shadow over the old tree stump._

_“I just feel it,” Derek says and carries on walking. He’s walking circles around the tree, his fingers running over the smooth surface of the stump and Stiles is standing in the middle, turning slowly to keep facing Derek. Stiles feels like there’s some kind of ritual happening right now but he can’t figure out what. Derek’s drawing patterns in the wood he can’t see._

_“What are you not telling me?” Stiles asks and sits, crossed legged, in the middle of the stump. Derek clambers onto it and sits in front of him._

_“What do you mean?” Derek asks, taking his hands in his own. They’re so young again, 5 and 8, and Stiles wishes he could see Derek older again, wants to run his hands across Derek’s probably now broad shoulders. He doesn’t know if it’s him or Derek that’s making them young again, doesn’t know if it’s his confusion or Derek’s that’s making them slip back_

_“You’re not telling me something...why?” Stiles cocks his head to the side and sometimes he wants to laugh at how weird it sounds his older voice coming from his 5 year old body. Derek wrinkles his nose and turns Stiles’ hands so they’re palm up, Derek’s own thumbs running along his life line._

_“I tell you everything,” Derek says and looks away. “How’s your mom?”_

_“She’s fine,” Stiles says and Derek frowns, like he can tell Stiles is lying. Stiles doesn’t want to talk about his mom here, this is their place. Derek’s woods, Stiles’ Beacon-Topia glowing in the distance. Their place and it doesn’t need to be tainted with pain and sadness. “Why are you 8 again?” Stiles asks suddenly and Derek laughs._

_“Why are you 5 again?” He counters and Stiles pushes on his shoulder with his tiny hand._

_“I’m 13 next month, dude,” Stiles says and Derek stands, hauls Stiles to his feet and wraps his hands around Stiles’s face. Stiles feels his 12 year old body react in a way he doesn’t quite understand._

_“One day, I’ll see you in real life and I’ll know you instantly.” Derek presses their lips together briefly and Stiles feels his chest warm._

_“I bet I’ll know you first,” Stiles counters, pushes Derek playfully and runs. Derek lets out a growl and runs after him, their shrieks of laughter filling the empty woods._

_Neither of them see the tree stump glowing._

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~

Derek’s showing off. He knows he is but he laughs with his friends at the girl with the long brown hair as she tries to get the basket ball from him. He doesn’t know what it is about this girl but he’s intrigued, he wants to get a reaction from her. He wants her to notice him. 

She just wants him to shut the hell up so she can practise her cello. 

She doesn’t get the ball and stomps off and Derek follows her. 

Her name’s Paige and Derek tries her name out in his mouth at home later, his door ajar, the sounds of his family below him. 

“Paige,” there’s a smile on his mouth, he can feel it. 

“ _Who’s Paige_?” Stiles’s voice sounds in his ear and Derek suddenly feels guilty. 

“Just a girl I’m doing a project with at school.” He can practically feel Stiles not believing him and Stiles is quiet for a few seconds. 

“ _She pretty_?” 

“I guess.” Derek shrugs, remembering her brown eyes, the mole under the left one. “You ok?” 

“ _I’m good_ ,” he can hear the lie in Stiles’ voice. It’s a voice he knows better than his own and Derek wants to push it, wants to find out what’s wrong. Stiles has been so quiet lately, sitting next to him in their dreams, few words said, his fingers curled into Derek’s and he smells sad all the time now. 

“Stiles…” 

“Still talking to your imaginary friend?” Laura pokes her head around his door and Derek sticks his tongue out at her. “Aren’t you a little too old for that?” 

“Shut up,” Derek throws his history textbook at her. She laughs and pulls the door shut. But her words ring true. He loves Stiles, he loves Stiles being in his head, in his dreams but sometimes he does wonder if Stiles is real, if maybe he’s crazy. His mother's words from years ago come to his mind. 

_If he’s real to you, that’s enough._

“ _I’m real_ ,” Stiles says and Derek can hear the smile in his voice. “ _I’ll see you later_.” 

He always knows when Stiles is gone, there’s a crackle, the buzz of radio static and then nothing. He almost hates the nothing. 

~~~~~

_”So who’s Paige?” Stiles grins and waggles his eyebrows. There’s a hint of something else under the humour though and Derek can’t quite figure out what._

_“She’s just a girl,” Derek says and swings his legs at the edge of the cliff. Beacon-Topia lies below them, a soft orange glow of streetlamps that lights up Stiles’ skin. One of Stiles’ eyebrows rises over his eyes and Derek laughs. It looks so odd coming from a 5 year old._

_“Is she your girlfriend?” Somehow Stiles manages to make the word girlfriend last longer than Derek’s ever heard as he half sings the word. Derek rolls his eyes and pushes at Stiles’ shoulder._

_“Shut up,” Stiles giggles but doesn’t say anything more and Derek reaches between them and winds their fingers together. “Stiles?” Stiles doesn’t answer, just looks from Beacon-Topia across at him. “You know you can talk to me right?” Stiles nods and pulls his hand from Derek’s._

_“I know,” he kicks his legs over the edge of the cliff and Derek wants to pull him close, use the stars as a blanket and keep them both here forever. The moon shines down on them and Derek’s wolf inside stirs. “I’m ok.”_

_“You’re lying,” Derek says and Stiles huffs out a laugh._

_“How do you always know?”_

_“I know you better than anyone,” Derek says and looks across at Stiles and suddenly Stiles is 12 and skinny, a smattering of moles across his face, his hair short, nose a little turned up at the end, his eyes still the same amber that he’s used to. Stiles blinks and Derek looks down at his own hands, knowing even before its confirmed that he is his normal fifteen year old self. “You’re not 5 anymore.”_

_“You’re not 8,” Stiles laughs and reaches out to him, his fingers running along Derek’s jaw line. “Is this what you look like?” Stiles is almost talking to himself and Derek winds their fingers together again. He wonders suddenly, an all consuming thought, if Stiles has ever kissed anyone. He remembers the shine in Stiles’ eyes when he first kissed Stiles, all those years ago, in their first dream, pressed a kissed to the corner of his mouth. Stiles’ mouth falls open a little now, his tongue slides out to lick the corner, where Derek had kissed him years ago._

_“Are you going to kiss me?” Stiles asks, his voice a little hesitant, but with what sounds to Derek a thread of excitment._

_“Thinking about it,” Derek replies, his voice shaking and even to his own ears he hears the hesitation, the wobble of nerves and he hopes Stiles doesn’t. Stiles just nods once, swallowing like he’s just as nervous as Derek is and Derek wonders when they became nervous around each other._

_“I’ve never…” Stiles starts and Derek presses their lips together. Derek’s kissed a few girls before but it didn’t feel like this, it didn’t feel like coming home. Stiles winds his fingers around Derek’s wrists and holds on even when Derek pulls away a little. “Wow...ok.” Derek feels his own heart beating loudly, mirroring Stiles’ which he hears thumping in his ears. The streetlights from Beacon-Topia seem to pulse brighter for a second and Derek drops his hands from Stiles’ face. Stiles fingers unwind from his wrists. Neither of them notice the black crawling up Derek’s veins along his arms._

_Stiles still radiates sadness, but it’s less than before and there’s something else under it now, something Derek can’t quite figure out._

_“So that’s kissing huh?” Stiles asks and laughs. Derek can’t help but laugh with him._

~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

Stiles wakes with the laugh still bubbling in his chest. His lips tingle and he still feels Derek’s pulse under his fingers. There’s a coiling low in his belly.

He doesn’t want to leave the confines of his bed. He doesn’t want to face the world, face the sadness that lingers in his house, the smell of sickness. He wants to stay, wrapped up in his blankets and the memory of Derek’s mouth against his. He hears his parents moving around downstairs, the quiet murmur of his dad’s gentle voice talking to his mom. 

He squeezes his eyes shut as he hears his mom’s voice rising, getting to the shrill volume of an episode. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fingers to his lips. 

He falls asleep again like that, with his fingers pressed to his mouth and tears in his eyes.

When he wakes again the house is quiet, and he’s hot. His duvet still over his head. He pulls it off him and makes his way downstairs, wiping the sleep from his eyes. 

Melissa is sitting at the kitchen table and Stiles stays in the kitchen doorway, his fingers gripping the frame. 

“Where’s dad?” He asks and Melissa looks up from her coffee mug. 

“Stiles,” she sounds sad and Stiles doesn’t want to hear any more. “They’re at the hospital. I can take you as soon as you get dressed.” 

“What happened?” There’s dread pitting in Stiles’ stomach and he wants to cry but 12 year olds don’t cry, they stay strong and swallow around the lump in the back of their throats. 

“Go get dressed honey,” Melissa says and Stiles does just that. Pulling his clothes on without thinking, his mind numb. He hears Derek reach out for him but ignores it. It’s the first time he’s done that and he feel sick. 

The whole drive to the hospital, Stiles can feel Derek trying to talk to him, the soft buzz in his head. The whole way he ignores it, squeezes his eyes shut and curls his hands into fists. Melissa is silent next to him, eyes fixed on the road and Stiles keeps his hands balled, pressing into his thighs. 

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~

Derek feels when Stiles wakes. He’s been awake for a while, his lips still tingling from kissing Stiles. Instinctively he feels Stiles’ pain and worry. Derek can’t put a finger on what’s causing it but he feels and reaches out. 

For the first time since they met, Stiles ignores him, and Derek can feel the push, like Stiles is pushing him away and he feels it in his chest. He hates the idea of Stiles ignoring him because of the kiss and he wants to apologise, to put it down to teenage hormones or something but he knows that’s not the reason. He wanted to kiss Stiles and now Stiles is in pain, and ignoring him and Derek feels sick. 

Stiles’ pain stays with Derek for the rest of the day, like the remnants of a headache just behind his eyes but he sees Paige and it lessens for a second. 

Paige smiles at him across the lunch hall and Derek grins back, ignoring the catcalls from his friends and making his way over to her. Derek’s intrigued by her, she’s beautiful and smart and seems to look at Derek like she knows what he is but doesn't say it out loud. He knows Stiles’ wouldn’t like her and sometimes he wonders if he first noticed her because of the similarities between them, even down to the small mole under Paige’s eye. 

He shakes his head at the thought of Stiles, his headache throbbing once, and Stiles stays silent in his mind. 

“So what are you doing tonight?” Derek asks, sliding into the seat next to Paige. She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at him. 

“Trying to ignore you,” she answers and Derek laughs and steals a fry from her tray. She glares at him but there’s warmth beneath her gaze and Derek smiles. Her smile and attention soothing something inside of him, filling the empty feeling he has been carried around since Stiles stopped talking to him.

“I heard ‘going to the movies with you, Derek’, so what time shall I pick you up?” Paige sighs and rolls her eyes but she doesn’t say no so Derek grins again. “Come on.” Derek nudges her elbow. 

“Fine, no talking though...and you buy the popcorn.” She points her finger at him and he wraps his fingers around hers and shakes it like it’s her hand. 

“Deal.” 

~~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

“She has to stay here Stiles,” Stiles’s dad is talking but Stiles can only make out every other word, staring at his mom through the reinforced glass in the window of her hospital room. 

“I thought she was getting better?” Stiles says, tearing his eyes away from his mom in her bed, looking small and sick. His dad runs a hand over his face. 

“There…” he trails off and clears his throat, his large hands landing on Stiles’ shoulders, “there is no getting better son, not from this.” His dad pulls him into a hug that feels like both their hearts are breaking. Stiles holds in a sob and pushes away from his dad. 

“I need the bathroom,” he says and his dad nods. 

The mirror is cracked in the bottom corner and Stiles stares at it, the faucet running, steam blurring his reflection. He feels, rather than sees, the tears fall down his cheeks. His mom is dying, he knows that now. He guesses he’s always known that, just never wanted to admit it. 

“Derek?” He reaches out but is met with silence. He sniffs, runs his arm under his nose. “Derek...please. I…” 

“ _What is it? I’m on a date Stiles,_ ” Derek sounds cross and it's the first time Derek has ever been cross with him and it makes the crack in Stiles heart widen and splinter. Stiles blinks at his own reflection, misted behind the condensation. He runs a hand across the glass. 

“With Paige?” Stiles asks and can’t help but sound bitter. He wants to scream at Derek ‘you kissed me last night and now you’re out with her?’. 

“ _Yeah...you ignored me all day,_ ” Stiles shakes his head and laughs a little.

“I thought…” 

He hears Derek sigh.

“ _Stiles, listen, we’ll talk later ok_?” Stiles squeezes his eyes shut again, tears rolling down his cheeks and he nods, even though he knows Derek can’t see him. He feels Derek leave and punches the mirror, the crack spreads across the bottom corner and Stiles clutches his fist to his chest. Pain blooms up his arm and he lets the tears fall even more. 

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~

Derek feels Stiles’s pain in his head but ignores it, slips back into his seat and wraps his arm around Paige’s shoulder. She smiles softly at him and lets her head rest against his shoulder. 

Derek ignores the sadness in his chest from Stiles. Stiles hurt him today, ignoring him the way he did. Derek shouldn’t have kissed him last night, true, but Stiles shouldn’t have ignored him all day. 

He barely concentrates on the movie, his mind flitting between Stiles and the feel of Paige’s breath against his shoulder. 

He ends the date kissing Paige on the walk back to her house, her small hands around his elbows, Derek deepens the kiss with the taste of Stiles still in his mind. 

~~~~~

_The woods are empty, Derek knows instinctively, there is no Stiles here and he shivers against the cold wind that whispers through the trees._

_Beacon-Topia lies below him, but it’s dark for once, only a few lights burning through the darkness and Derek frowns._

_It feels weird to be here without Stiles, like he shouldn’t be. This place had been, no_ is _so special to them, this made-up, magical place made up of bits from both of them now feels menacing, like there’s something lurking in the shadows. Derek crosses his arms over his chest._

_“Stiles?” He shouts his name through the trees, the ancient tree stump feels like a barrier now, barring his way to Stiles. He gets nothing back from the silence, just more silence and he feels eyes watching him from the darkness._

_A man stands before him, tall, well built but slim, hair long and swept up at the front. There’s something about him that seems vaguely familiar and Derek takes a step towards him._

_“Who are you?”_

_“Don’t let him break it,” the man says and his voice sounds familiar and totally alien at the same time. The man shoves his long fingered hands into his pockets, moles tracing intricate patterns across his forearms._

_“What? Don’t let who break what?” The man cocks his head to the side and looks down at Beacon-Topia._

_“Don’t let him break it.” He says again and Derek follows the man's gaze. The few lights that were burning in Stiles’ made up city have now gone out and Derek looks back to the man. He’s gone and Derek feels colder all of a sudden. The moon, usually so bright and full is half hidden by cloud. There’s a rumble of thunder._

Derek wakes in a cold sweat, his lips taste of Paige’s lip balm, strawberry and coconut but he feels Stiles’ cheeks beneath his hands. 

“Stiles,” he reaches out and is met with silence and falls back into a blissfully dreamless sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Stiles Aged 12, Derek Aged 15  
~~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

It’s been 2 weeks and his mom is still in the hospital. His dad had said she wouldn’t be coming home, his voice thick with whiskey and pain but Stiles had hoped, prayed and wished that he had been lying. 

His mom is still there though, slipping away more and more each day. Sometimes she looks at Stiles with such hatred that Stiles can’t do anything except stare back at her.

“She doesn’t mean it,” His dad had said a few days ago, in the car on the way back from hospital, the sting of the slap from his mom still burning on his cheek. “It’s the disease Stiles, she doesn’t mean it.” 

“I know,” Stiles had said, pressing his fingers to his cheek, and not for the first time, wishing he could talk to Derek. 

Derek’s been silent. Stiles thinks sometimes he hears him, a quiet voice in his head but when he reaches back there’s nothing. Over the past week he’s been starting to think that maybe Derek wasn’t real after all. 

Scott is usually by his side now, his quiet support has been a blessing and Stiles can only silently thank him, he doesn’t think words will work right now. Scott seems to get it though and arrives when Stiles needs him the most, barging into Stiles’ room with pizza and video games. 

Stiles’ dreams have been quiet too. The tree that dominated their dreamscape is now not as bright, the wood duller, not as warm and the lights from his own Beacon-Topia are fading. Derek’s never there, just the empty woods that now feel dangerous and threatening. 

Two days before his 13th birthday, Stiles’ mom dies. 

It had been a good day, Stiles had been sitting at the end of her bed, his legs crossed under him, playing Uno with her. She’d been smiling at his dad and laughing with Stiles. His dad had slipped out to take care of stuff at work and Stiles had crawled into the bed with her, letting her pull him close and she’d smelt of hospitals, but underneath it there had been her smell. 

She’d told him Peter and the Wolf from memory, with Stiles correcting every now and then, and had slipped away without Stiles even noticing. It had only been when Stiles had gone to move and she hadn’t stirred that he’d known something was wrong. The nurses had ushered him out and he’d sat on the chair outside, head in hands.

That’s where his dad found him hours later.

The tears had already been shed but he looks up at his dad and sees his eyes fill. One slips down his dad's cheek as his dad crouches in front of him and wraps his arms around Stiles. 

“I’m so sorry, kiddo,” his dad whispers and Stiles curls his fingers into his dad's uniform. The comforting feel of the material grounding him. 

In the few hours of sleep he manages to catch that night, Stiles dreams of his mother. 

_Her kind face and soft hands. They’re cupped around his face and he feels her lips against his forehead._

_“Don’t break it Stiles,” she says and Stiles holds onto her wrists._

_“Mom,” she pulls away and smiles down at him._

_“Don’t break it baby.”_

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~

Derek knows something is horribly wrong, there’s an ache that won’t go behind his eyes and his chest feels tight. Stiles has been quiet for two weeks and Derek has tried to reach out a few times, between Paige and school and trying to keep his secret from Paige, Derek’s been busy but he can tell the moment something terrible happens to Stiles. 

He reels, staggering in the hallway of his home, his mother reaching out to steady him with careful hands and worried eyes. 

“Derek?” 

“I’m alright, I…” he presses his hand to his forehead. “I’m alright. I have to get ready...I’m seeing Paige.” His mother sighs, her hands slipping from his arms. 

“You are being careful with her?” 

“Urgh, gross, mom.” She raises an eyebrow at him. 

“I meant about what you are Derek. You have to be careful, she’s human.” Derek sighs, his chest hurting and he rubs absently at it. His mother cocks her head to one side slightly. 

“I know, and I am. I promise. Uncle Peter’s helping me.” The eyebrow raises a little higher and Derek can still feel Stiles’ pain. 

“Are you sure you alright?” His mother asks again, long hair falling over her shoulder as she reaches out and presses a hand to his forehead. “It’s like…” she frowns, “it’s like you’re feeling someone else’s pain,” she sounds confused and worried and Derek forces a light laugh. 

“That would be weird. Anyway mom, gotta go.” His breaks out of her reverie and shakes her head. 

“Be careful,” she calls after him. 

The door to his bedroom is barely shut behind him before he reaches out. 

“Stiles?” He whispers, almost afraid of hearing Stiles’ voice, but afraid more of not. “Stiles are you there?” He hears static. “Stiles, I dunno if you can hear me, if you’re ignoring me, or if you were ever really there but are you ok?” There’s nothing and Derek feels empty inside. He sighs and swallows the lump in his throat. “Stiles.” He feels something break inside, a bolt of pain behind his eyes and then there’s nothing, not even static. 

~~~~~

The weeks pass and he can’t feel Stiles’ pain anymore. He can’t figure out if Stiles isn’t in pain or if he just can’t feel Stiles so he throws himself into Paige and spends his time with her, kissing, exploring her body with his hands and less and less does he wish it was Stiles kissing him back. One day he realises he hasn’t thought of Stiles for days. 

He feels guilty at first, then free, and then guilty again. His mom looks at him sometimes like she knows something but doesn’t say anything and Derek tries to forget everything. 

He visits their dreamscape once, he thinks by accident. Beacon-Topia lies in ruins below him, the old tree stump rotten and broken and he wakes again in a cold sweat. He doesn't go back

Paige becomes his everything. Brilliant, sassy, beautiful Paige who laughs like she means it and kisses Derek like she might die if she doesn’t. Uncle Peter whispers sometimes about turning her but Derek wouldn’t have her any other way. Alive and hopelessly brilliant.

Sometimes he almost wants to reach out to Stiles, he misses his voice in his head, misses his face in his dreams. Other times he can almost make himself believe that Stiles was never real. 

He prefers those thoughts, prefers to think that he had an overactive imagination, fueled by the old customs and legends of his family. He prefers to think that Stiles was never real. The alternative, that he’s lost Stiles, such an intrinsically important part of him, to almost too much to bear. 

~~~~~

Stiles 

~~~~~

His mom is gone. Buried and gone, but the smell of her still lingers in the house, almost like a tangible thing, touching Stiles’ dad, keeping him buried in work with a weight on his shoulders that Stiles doesn’t ever want to understand. 

He hears Derek a few times, asking if Stiles is ok and Stiles ignores him. Sits on his bed, fingers pressed in his ears, volume turned up on his music so loud he can barely hear his dad telling him to turn it down. 

One day it becomes too much, full of anger and grief and pain Stiles just snaps.

“Just leave me alone,” Stiles shouts inside his head and a sharp pain blooms behind his eyes, brilliant white hot heat, brief like lightning and the quiet murmur, the static of Derek is gone. 

He chokes off a sob. He loved Derek, had convinced himself that somehow, Derek was real and his soulmate. What other reason for their connection could there be? But Derek had been too busy to deal with Stiles’ pain, and Stiles could understand that. He himself didn’t want to deal with it, why make someone else deal with it as well? 

Stiles had wanted to stay asleep with Derek forever, running through their dreamscape, Derek howling behind him, grinning across the old tree stump. But Derek had ruined it, pulling away, pulling towards Paige and Stiles just wants to forget everything. 

That night he dreams of their place. The old tree is broken and Beacon-Topia is nothing but a pile of rubble. Stiles feels eyes on him from the trees and wakes up screaming with his dad's arms around him. 

“I think Derek’s gone,” he chokes out and his dad pulls him closer. 

“Oh Stiles, he was never really here.” 

Stiles can’t find the energy to argue. 

~~~~~

Stiles Aged 14, Derek Aged 17

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~ 

Paige dies on a totally normal Tuesday.

The rain had been hammering down for days, but that was normal for the time of the year. The roads were wet and slippery and they’d been arguing. 

Derek had been so desperate to tell her, to tell her everything, to spill his secrets out to her, her hands clasped in his. 

She’d listened, eyes wide, and she’d taken a step back from him. Derek had known then that he’d scared her, something he’d never wanted to do. She had often looked at Derek like she knew. He thought she would understand. 

“You’re…” she had started, shaking her head and Derek had let his claws grow. He had better control over them now. She’d shaken her head in disbelief, stepping even further away from him. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I’m telling you now, baby come on,” he reaches for her but she’d stepped to the side, running her hands through her hair. 

“You didn’t think I knew? I knew there was something different about you. It’s what I love about you, but you didn’t trust me with this? Derek, you told me about Stiles, but you don’t tell me this?” He’d flinched at Stiles’ name and he remembered telling her months ago, tongue lose from too much of the beer Uncle Peter had bought and she had just put her head on his chest and had kissed him afterwards. She’d never said his name again. 

“Paige…” 

“No, I need…” She had tucked her hair behind her ears and looked across the room at him. “I need to go. I...you lied to me.” 

“No Paige, I didn’t, I…” 

“You lied by not telling me. Derek I need to go, to think. I won't tell anyone, I promise but…” there were tears falling down her face and the sky lit up briefly with a flash of lightning. 

She’d run out into the rain and had never made it home. 

His mom had told him, her eyes full of sadness, her hands gentle on his. 

“I’m so sorry baby.” 

~~~~~

Derek stares at himself in the bathroom mirror. He’s just got back from Paige’s funeral, her parents had hugged him and Derek had tried to ignore the bile that rose in the back of his throat. He’d told them they’d argued and they’d hugged him tighter. 

He stares at himself and ignores the empty feeling in his chest. 

“Stiles?” His whispers the name to himself, blinking at his own reflection, half hoping Stiles doesn’t answer, half wishing he would. 

There’s nothing in his ears, no static, no hum. No Stiles. And Derek squeezes his eyes against the tears that threaten to spill. 

The mirror breaks under his fist, glass shattering, blood pooling on his knuckles as his mom pushes the door open. 

The cuts heals as he watches, skin and tissue knotting together as he falls to to floor with his mom's arms around him. 

“I can’t find Stiles,” he says, and even to his own ears he sounds like the little boy he was when he first met Stiles. “I can’t find him, mom.” 

“Oh baby.” He doesn’t remember falling asleep with his mom's fingers running through his hair, but he wakes with a start back in his own bed and the sound of his pack below.


	5. Chapter 5

Stiles Aged 16, Derek Aged 19

~~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

“Have you thought about colleges?” His dad asks and Stiles has got a carton of milk halfway to his mouth. He wrinkles his nose. 

“Urgh, no,” he takes a sip of the milk and glances at his watch. 20 minutes before he said he’d meet scott. “Can we talk about this later?” 

“Where are you going?” His dad asks, and there’s still underlying sadness on his face but he looks better than Stiles can remember. 

“Helping Scott with lacrosse practise.” 

“You are aware you both suck right?” 

“Ha ha, Daddio. Funny,” Stiles glares at him and puts the milk back in the fridge. “But yes, we are aware, thank you.” 

“Ok, we’ll talk about this later, but talk about it we will.” 

Stiles mocks salutes and is out of the door before his dad can change his mind. 

The light blue jeep stands in the driveway and Stiles runs his fingers over the bonnet. His dad had given him the keys two weeks ago and Stiles still can’t believe he gets to drive it. If he breathes in deep enough, it still smells like his mom. 

It starts on the second key turn, spluttering into life and Stiles makes a mental note to get more duct tape tomorrow. 

He catches sight of himself in the rearview and on a whim he breathes out a name he hasn’t spoken in years. 

“Derek?” There’s nothing, not even static and his head is quiet. Stiles sighs, shakes his head and lets out a small bitter laugh. He pulls the jeep out of the driveway, cranks the music and leaves the thought of Derek behind him. 

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~

After two semesters, Derek’s all but settled into life at Pacifica. His Major, Mythology and Religious Studies, is all that he hoped it would be. Mentally challenging, interesting, and so important on a personal level. His mom had pushed him to take the course, but he’d been thinking about it for a while anyway. The Program Chair had taken a special interest in Derek and they would spend hours after classes talking, arguing, discussing. He’d all but offered Derek the position of TA in his second year if Derek wanted it. 

“There is of course, the myth of Soulmates is littered throughout history,” Dr Smith says one evening. The lights from the campus path shines in through the window of Dr Smith’s office, the green downlights on his desk cast a warm, yellow light across his quintessential college professor's desk. 

“Really?” Derek slides the half empty mug of coffee onto the desk and sits up a little straighter. Dr Smith nods, steepling his fingers and resting his chin on them. 

“Of course. And not just in Mythology either. You can find mentions of soulmates in the Bible too. 1 Samuel 18:1 ‘And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.’ Of course, homophobes would argue that it was platonic,” Dr Smith winks across at Derek. “I mean, even look at science and it backs up the theory that there is one person for everyone.” 

“How so?” Derek can’t even remember how they got onto the subject but now he’s intrigued. 

“Quantum Entanglement. Of course it is almost pseudoscience but science nevertheless.” Dr Smith shrugs in a very non intellectual way. 

“What’s Quantum Entanglement?” 

“Well to quote wikipedia, it's when pairs of particles interact in ways that the quantum state of each particle cannot be described independently, even when separated by large distances.” 

“So,” Derek says slowly, “you’re saying it’s possible that two people can interact across thousands of miles on a subatomic level?” 

“Well, according to mythology, the Bible and pseudoscience...yes. Theoretically.” 

Derek, for the first time in years, thinks of Stiles. He misses, suddenly, the lack of noise, the lack of static in his head. He’s not even dreamt of their dreamscape since being here and he wonders what it looks like now. Is the tree completely rotten now? Is Beacon-Topia even still standing? He yawns, the thought of sleep so inviting right now. Dr Smith raises an amused eyebrow at him. 

“Boring you?” 

“No, not at all.” 

“Go to sleep Derek, it’s late. We can continue this tomorrow.” Derek nods, drains the last of his now cold coffee and stands, stretching out his stiff muscles. His back pops pleasingly and Dr Smith smiles. “Goodnight, Derek.” 

“Goodnight, Dr Smith.” 

~~~~~

_The woods are dark, the moon hiding behind the clouds and only Derek’s wolf eyes let him see through the trees._

_He’s not been here since before Paige died and Derek’s chest constricts at the thought of her. A wolf howls in the distance and Derek doesn’t recognise it. It sends a frisson of fear up his spine, the hairs on his forearms standing on end._

_In the clearing the tree stump, a nemeton he now knows, an ancient place of Celtic worship, lies rotting. Pieces are hanging off at broken angles and the smell of rotting wood hits him. This place used to be magical, used to be important and not just to the Druids. This place was important to both him and Stiles._

_He used to know when Stiles was here, could feel him across the vast distance between them._ Quantum Entanglement _he thinks. Could it actually be that him and Stiles are made from the same particles? He remembers the feeling of something breaking inside him, the pull and snap inside his head._

_He’d spent years convincing himself that Stiles wasn’t real, but there’s a tickle at the back of his brain, the beginning of an idea, the start of a memory that makes him think that Stiles was real all along._

_The moon peeks out from behind the clouds for a few seconds and Derek thinks he sees the shadow of a man duck back into the trees._

_“Stiles?”_

_He’s greeted with silence._

~~~~~

Stiles Aged 18, Derek Aged 21

~~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

Stiles takes a deep breath and looks up at the main building of Pacifica Graduate Institute. If he listens carefully he can block out all the other noise and hear the ocean. Of course he’s probably imagining it, it’s not that close, but he grins to himself, glances at the distant ocean and heaves his rucksack onto his shoulder. He thinks of his dad's proud face when he got the acceptance letter, thinks of Scott’s excited face when he found out Stiles was staying in state. Scott’s at UC Davis, it’s 6 hours up US 101 N but it’s the same state. Stiles isn’t sure that Rosco would make it 6 hours but he’s willing to give it a go as soon as both of them know their schedules. 

He’d chosen the course carefully, scouring through the course notes, reading list and curriculum overview on the Pacifica website multiple times before actually applying. He’s not sure what practical applications it will have but it spoke to him on such a level he found it difficult to ignore once he’d stumbled across it. 

Lydia had encouraged him, of course. She always did push him when she knew he could do things. Her strawberry blonde hair hanging over her shoulder and she read the curriculum over his shoulder. 

“If you don’t do it,” she had said, “I will never speak to you again.” 

He couldn’t remember when they had become friends over the course of the their two final years in High School, but she’d gone from object of his affection to best friend somehow and now he doesn’t know how he’d survive without her. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out, fumbling with his heavy bag. 

_Go make friends and stop gawking at the building. L x_

He smiles at his phone screen and wonders if Lydia has spies here in Pacifica. He wouldn’t put it past her. A shiver of anticipation runs up his spine and he heaves his bag onto his shoulder and makes his way to the admissions office.

~~~~~

He manages to find his dorm room and dumps his bag on the free bed. There’s already stuff on the other one, the one closest to the door and he hopes the guy is ok. 

He types out a quick reply to Lydia before starting unpack. 

He’s halfway through when a tall, broad guy walks into his room. He’s silent in an easy way and stares at Stiles for a second before a blonde bombshell walks in behind him. She grins around blood red lipstick and sticks her hand out to him. 

“I’m Erica,” he takes her hand, “and this silent man mountain is Boyd.” Boyd nods and holds his hand out as well but doesn’t say anything. “You ok with that bed?” Erica asks and Stiles nods. 

“Yeah, it’s perfect. I’m Stiles by the way.” She raises an eyebrow. “It’s a nickname...it’s easier than my real name so…” he trails off. Erica grins and drums her fingers together in glee. 

“Oooh mysterious.” She laughs and it sounds like music and Stiles is suddenly, instantly, in total platonic love with her. Boyd rolls his eyes good naturedly and looks lovingly at her and Stiles gets the impression they’ve got a bond like nothing he’s ever seen. “So Stiles,” she plops herself onto Boyd’s bed and crosses her legs. “What are you in for?” 

“Mythology and Religious Studies,” Stiles answers, pulling his batman t-shirt out of his bag. Erica points at it. 

“That,” Stiles frowns at his t-shirt. “You’re wearing that tonight.” Stiles raises an eyebrow and Erica sighs like she’s told him a thousand times already. “To the welcome party. Wear that and I’ll wear my Catwoman one.” She grins and wiggles her eyebrows. 

“Uh...ok.” 

“Oh and by the way, you’re my new best friend. I’m doing the same course.” Stiles smiles at her. “Right boys, behave whilst I’m gone, I’ll come see you later before the party.” She kisses Boyd on the mouth, briefly but Stiles gets the feeling he’s watching something deeply intimate. “Bye Stiles.” She waves her fingers at him as she trails out of the room. 

“She’s…” Stiles starts and Boyd looks at him expectantly. 

“Scary?” 

“I was going to go with amazing, but yes scary as well.” Boyd laughs briefly and nods. 

“Sometimes I think I had no choice about being her boyfriend,” he pulls his laptop out of a bag and places it on his desk, “then other times I don’t think I would have chosen any different if I did have a choice.” Stiles gets the feeling that’s probably the most personal that Boyd is ever going to get. “I’m doing Clinical Psychology by the way.” 

“Hard core.” Boyd raises an eyebrow in agreement and lapses back into silence. 

~~~~~

“So why Mythology?” Erica asks, her fingers wrapped around a red solo cup. There’s a pink straw sticking out of it and Erica stabs the straw into the god awful concoction. Stiles is pretty sure there’s peach schnapps in there somewhere. 

“Just always been interested in it, I can’t explain why. Feels like I had to do this, you know?” Erica takes a sip of her drinks, grimaces, throws the straw to the ground and downs the rest of it. She runs a hand across her mouth without smudging her lipstick. 

“No, not really. But I like you so I’ll pretend I understand,” she grins and snags another cup from a passing students hands. He protests slightly but shrugs and walks away. Stiles laughs. Erica pats the Batman logo on his chest.

“How long have you and Boyd been together?” Stiles asks and Erica looks across the room at her boyfriend. He’s dominating the Beer Pong table without a word being said but like he can feel Erica’s eyes on him, he turns and throws her a brilliant smile. 

“Three years,” she says without taking her eyes off him. “You know when you just know?” She looks back at Stiles. “I met him and thought ‘this is it’. I felt like I could tell him anything instantly. I felt like I dreamed him.” She wrinkles her nose a little and shakes her head and Stiles thinks of Derek. “Whew...I must have had too much to drink,” she’s saying but all Stiles can hear is Derek’s voice in his head. Or how it used to sound. He hadn’t thought of Derek for years, not since after his mom. He remembers the pain behind his eyes like a flash of lightning and presses his hand to the nearest solid surface. “Stiles? You ok?” 

Erica’s looking at him with worry in her eyes and Boyd is halfway across the room already. Stiles shakes his head. 

“Yeah, I’m fine, I...just...I need some air, be right back.” 

“He’s fine,” he hears Erica say to Boyd as he makes his way through the crowd. 

The air hits him like a truck, practically knocking him off his feet and he knows he’s had too much to drink but he feels stone cold sober all of a sudden. His stomach coils at the thought of Derek. _His Derek_. The boy from his dreams who kissed him then left him for a girl called Paige. The boy who was with him on his first day of school. The boy who always knew when Stiles was sad or lying. 

“He wasn’t real,” Stiles hears himself say through the roaring in his ears, “he wasn’t real.” It’s been a while since he’s had a panic attack and he remembers the rubber band on his wrist that Lydia gave him. He snaps it against his skin, dragging in a deep breath. He holds it for a few seconds and blows it out as slowly as he can. He does it again and again until he feels the panic subsiding. There’s nothing in his mind, no noise, no static and Stiles stands upright, takes one more deep breath and goes back to find Erica and Boyd, all thoughts of Derek gone for now. 

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~

There’s a lot of noise in the classroom, but its the kind of subdued noise of people who don’t know each other and are just getting to. Derek glances around the room. It’s tiered, and one of his favourite rooms. He feels calm here and these new people in his space make him uneasy for a few seconds. 

His gaze rests on a slight boy with longish hair. It’s messy in a way that reads he doesn’t quite know what to do with it, swept to the side at the front presumably by his own hand repeatedly running through it. There’s something about him that catches Derek’s eye, the slight but powerful seeming build, the long fingers that tap against his thigh as the blond girl next to him talks what looks like a mile a minute. He laughs at something she says and Derek feels something warm in his chest. The boys hair curls slightly over his ears and the back of his red hoodie and Derek rolls his eyes at the irony.

Dr Smith opens the door to the room and somehow the room falls silent, like they are all instantly aware of who he is. Derek’s always been impressed with Dr Smith’s pre-eminence, his presence in a room is evident almost immediately. A murmur goes through the room as people take their seats and Dr Smith dims the lights. The board behind him flares up with a title card for the course. 

“Welcome to Mythology and Religious Studies. I’m Dr Smith. I am the Program Chair and you will see me through your time here. This is my TA Mr Hale who has just started passing around a seating plan, please write your name neatly.” The clipboard gets passed around the room as Dr Smith explains a little more of how the year is going to run and Derek can see the group listening with rapture. “We’ll be starting this semester with Greek and Roman Mythology. I assume you all have the correct books needed.” There’s another murmur, this time excited and Derek’s eyes land on the young man again, the one sitting next to the stunning blonde. He grins at her as she passes the clipboard to him and Derek sees him frown a little before scrawling his name and passing the clipboard on. 

The clipboard eventually makes its way back to Dr Smith who studies it briefly before continuing his introduction. 

The boy with the red hoodie sticks up his hand a while later, the first lecture drawing to a close, Dr Smith glances down at the clipboard. 

“Yes Mr...uh…” It’s not very often Dr Smith stumbles over names and Derek hides a smile until he hears 3 words which shake him to the core. 

“Call me Stiles.”


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles Aged 18, Derek Aged 21

~~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

“Call me Stiles,” he says and Dr Smith nods. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the TA stiffen and for the first time he notices just how attractive he is. “I’m particularly interested in dreams, can you explain a little more what we’ll be doing on that section?” 

“Stiles, ok. We’ll be focusing more on dream theory and amplification methods.” Stiles nods and glances down at the TA who’s staring up at him with a mixture of incredulity and shock. Even at this distance Stiles can see his face has gone pale and Stiles is suddenly hit with a wave of recognition, a quiet hum starts in his ears, his chest hurts and he drags in a shaky breath as he stares back at the TA. 

 

Stiles feels light headed, and the static in his ears kicks up a notch, going from soft hum to a buzz as the TA stares back at him. 

“Stiles,” Erica nudges him slightly. 

“It’s him.” He says without thinking but suddenly he knows it's true. Sitting in front of him, staring back at him with a face that reads slightly of anger, is Derek. _His Derek_. 

“Who? The hot TA? Who is he?” Stiles shakes his head but he can’t take his eyes of Derek. He said once he would know Stiles anywhere and Stiles had said he’d know him first, and now with absolutely certainty he knows he’s looking at Derek. Derek flinches, cocks his head to the side like he’s hearing something no one else can hear and Stiles gets it, the buzz is louder, drowning out Dr Smith. Stiles stands and Erica tugs on his sleeve. 

He runs a shaky hand through his hair, mutters out a stutter apology and is out in the hallway before he even realises it, his feet carrying him away from the intense gaze he can feel boring practically into his soul. His whole body is shaking, and he can barely hear through the roaring in his ears but he hears the doors to the lecture hall open and close and the noise stops. 

“Stiles?” The voice is hesitant, deep and soothing in a way that Stiles didn’t know was possible and he shakes his head without turning around. 

“No, no, you’re not real, you’re not him. He wasn’t real.” 

“Stiles,” he feels the hand at his shoulder before it lands, like a bloom of warmth against his skin and then there’s the solid feel of someone touching him. “Stiles.” 

Stiles turns. 

“They’re green.” He says and laughs a little hysterically. Derek frowns. “Your eyes. They’re green. I could never work out what colour they were.” He wants to touch him, he wants to punch him, he wants to scream at him and kiss him and pretend that this wasn’t happening and never stop this moment. 

“Stiles,” and it’s like it’s the only word Derek can manage to say right now and Stiles wants to cry.

“You gave me that name.” Stiles sounds a little hysterical, incredulous and happy at the same time and he can’t help but smile through his confusion. Derek’s real. Derek’s standing in front of him. Derek is more beautiful that Stiles thought possible. 

The doors to the lecture hall slam open and a stream of people flood out, Derek flinches and moves to the side of the hallway, reaching out like he wants to pull Stiles with him but he snatches his hand back like he can’t quite bring himself to touch him again. There’s noise all around them but all Stiles can hear is Derek’s breathing, steady but with an edge of panic.

“Stiles? You ok?” Erica lets her hand fall on his arm and Stiles drags his gaze from Derek’s. 

“Erica...yeah, I’m fine.” Erica looks between them both and a frown passes over her face as her gaze settles on Derek. It’s like there’s a silent conversation going between them. She nods very slightly and looks back at Stiles. 

“You two know each other?” 

“We grew up together,” Stiles says just as Derek huffs out a simple “no.” Erica frowns again but there’s a smile hinting at the corner of her mouth. 

“Okay,” she drags out the word, “I’ve gotta go meet Boyd, you want me to wait for you?” Stiles shakes his head, eyes resting back on Derek’s face. Derek looks like he wants to look anywhere but Stiles. “I’ll leave you to your…’not friend’ then,” she half grins, her fingers making quote marks around her head, but there’s still a hint of worry on her face as she glances at Derek, her nostrils flaring slightly like she’s smelling something. 

“Stiles,” Derek says again when she’s gone and Stiles lets out another hysterical laugh. 

“Are you going to say anything else?” and Stiles makes an abortive attempt to touch him. Derek steps back, panic colouring his face and Stiles snatches his hand back and shoves it into his pocket. He hitches his bag on his shoulder with his other hand. He’s half expecting everyone to be staring at them, to be able to read the situation between them clear as day but people walk past without noticing them, Dr Smith hanging in the doorway of the lecture hall. Derek glances at him and nods. 

“I’ve…” he hooks his thumb over his shoulder, “gotta go...um…”

“Are you serious?”

“I’m sorry,” Derek shakes his head and makes to move. That’s when Stiles touches him, curls his fingers around Derek’s forearm. Derek’s sleeves are pushed up to his elbows and he flinches at the skin on skin contact. Stiles’ hand burns where it’s resting on Derek’s skin. 

“Derek…” He’s pleading, he can hear it in his own ears but Derek tugs his arm out of his grasp. 

“I’ve got to go.” 

“Derek?” 

“Later.” Derek steps out of Stiles’ reach and his words sound like an empty promise. 

~~~~~

_Stiles steps through the familiar landscape. The trees are tall, blocking out some of the clear night sky, but there’s a moon hanging amongst the branches, bright and full and Stiles steps into the clearing._

_He’s not been here for years but it feels so heartbreakingly normal to run his hand over the tree stump. The last time he was here it was a rotten stump but now it's like it’s growing again, the fibres knitting back together and Stiles looks across to the city below them._

_He smiles to himself, a few lights are dotted amongst the buildings, it’s like their dreamscape is coming back to life. Stiles reaches into his mind and feels the old familiar hum, like bees in the summer, cicadas on a warm evening. He feels Derek somewhere here, waiting and he doesn’t push it. He read the panic on Derek’s face earlier today, the worry, the way he couldn’t say anything other than Stiles’ name, so he lets him hide as he runs his hands over the warm wood again._

_The tree glows slightly under his hand, like phosphorescence in water, following the path his fingers takes across the rings._

_“I know you’re there,” he says out loud. There’s a howl of a wolf somewhere miles in the distance and Stiles wonders briefly why the woods and wolves are always in their dreams. “And I’ll let you hide...for a while. But then I’m coming to find you.”_

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~

Derek wakes suddenly, the echoes of the dream fading quickly but Stiles’ voice remains loud and clear in his head. 

_But then I’m coming to find you._

He scrubs a hand over his face, rubs the sleep from his eyes. It’s still early, the light from the window is gray but there’s a narrow band of deep orange on the horizon as the sun attempts to break through the night cloud.

It will, he thinks, almost laughing at the way it’s mimicking Stiles, trying to break through. He stands and stretches out his muscles. He feels the need to run, his wolf claws inside him and he knows it needs to run too but it’s going to have to settle for a public run this morning. He pulls an old t-shirt over his head, tugs on his running shorts and pushes his feet into his sneakers. 

The pound of his feet on the sidewalk soothe him, a rhythmic beat and his heart pulses in his chest in time. It’s warm already, even this early in the morning and Derek feels the sweat bead across his forehead. 

He runs until his lungs hurt and heads back to his room feeling lighter than when he woke from the dream. 

In the shower he thinks of Stiles, thinks about his amber eyes, his hair, the curve of his nose, the moles dotted across his skin. He’s so much more beautiful than Derek ever thought possible, but there’s a power under his skin that he can practically feel even now. A power that almost scares Derek. He wonders if Stiles made the connection in the first place. Reached across the distance between them and chose Derek. Or if Stiles, like Derek, had no hand in it and it’s just fate that stitched their lives together. He thinks of Stiles’ long fingered hands and feels his hand slip lower. He growls to himself and turns the shower to cold, pressing his head to the cool tiles and willing his body to get itself under control. 

He rubs his hands over his face and turns off the shower, silently thanking whichever entity watches over them that he doesn’t have any classes today, he’s not sure he can face Stiles just yet. 

He’s got work to do though so powers up his laptop, munches his way through a power bar whilst he waits for the laptop and the coffee to brew. 

~~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

“Do you want to talk about it?” Erica’s lounging on Boyd’s bed, her laptop open on her chest. It doesn’t look comfortable in the slightly and Stiles realises he’s been staring at her for a while. 

“What?” Stiles looks back at his own laptop. They’ve got an essay to write and Boyd’s at a class. Erica shuts her laptop and sits up, crosses her legs and purses her lips thoughtfully. 

“Whatever’s bugging you. You’ve been off since the other day with that hot TA. Who you still haven’t told me about by the way,” she waggles her eyebrows at him. “You sly dog.” 

“It’s not like that,” Stiles starts. “I think I’m going crazy…” he says honestly, the words just escaping him. Erica half smiles but it fades when she sees the look on his face. 

“What’s going on Batman?”

“Do you believe in soulmates?” He asks and Erica blinks. She pushes herself off the bed and heads to the door. Stiles thinks for one horrific moment she’s going to leave but she shuts the door and leans her back against it, her hands pressed flat to the chip board. She doesn’t say anything, just looks at him, and there’s nothing accusatory in her gaze, just simple encouragement. “I used to have these dreams,” he starts and Erica pulls Boyd’s chair out from his desk and tucks one leg under her as she sits, her blonde hair falling over one shoulder. “I had an alter-ego when I was a kid. I couldn’t say my real name,” Erica huffs out a laugh and nods, “so I called myself Mischief. And I was a superhero. I had a whole imaginary land called Beacon-Topia and I protected it from Boring Man.” There’s an indulgent smile playing at the corner of Erica’s mouth but she doesn’t say anything. “And I used to dream about it, about this vast city that I had free reign over. Then one day, there was a boy there that I didn’t know.” Erica sits up, tucking a lock of hair behind her ears and he’s got her attention. He trails off, looking out of the window and he hears a gentle buzz in his ears. He reaches out to Derek. 

“Who was the boy?” Erica asks and Stiles looks back at her, keeping the line of communication open between him and Derek. He doesn’t know where Derek is but he’s pretty sure Derek can hear him.

“His name was Derek. And he couldn’t say my name either. He called me Stiles instead. And he used to pretend to be a wolf and chase me around the woods above my dream town. We never grew up but we did, you know?” He looks across at Erica and she just blinks, unsure of what to say. “He was my first kiss.” Erica smiles again and Stiles smiles with her. “I dreamt my first kiss. How lame is that?” She reaches across the space between them and places her hand on his knee. 

“What does this have to do with the Hot TA?” 

“This is going to sound crazy Erica, but I swear it’s him.” He puts every ounce of honesty and pleading he can into his voice and covers her hand with his own. 

“What’s him? The boy from your dream?” Stiles just nods and Erica smiles suddenly. Brilliantly and leans back in the chair. 

“Have I ever told you how Boyd and I met?” Stiles shakes his head. “I feel like I’ve known him forever, you know?” An idea begins to stitch together in Stiles’ mind and Erica looks at him expectantly. “Do you remember what I told you our first night here?” 

“You said you felt like you had known him forever,” Erica nods but lays her palm out flat, encouraging him. “You said that you felt like...shit.” 

“Like I…?” 

“Like you dreamed him.” Stiles feels the world pitch under his feet. If someone else understands what he’s talking about, that must make it true. Derek and their connection has to be true. 

“Like I dreamed him.” Erica smiles and door opens suddenly, Boyd looks between them. 

“Shall I give you two a minute?” Boyd is quiet, he only says things when necessary, but he’s become a friend as well over the last few days. Stiles feels like he can tell Erica anything, and by extension Boyd. There’s a cool calm about Boyd that’s relaxing even when his voice betrays a hint of amusement. 

“Shut up,” Erica hushes him fondly, waving her hand. “Shut the door.” Boyd frowns and Stiles has no idea what’s going on. 

“Stiles dreamt of a boy, and now the boy is a smoking hot TA on our course.” She says it in such a way that Stiles can hear the underlying message between the two but not understand it. 

 

“Erica!” Stiles looks up at Boyd who’s just staring back at her. 

“Babe, just cos I once dreamt about a curly haired blond girl doesn’t meant we shared dreams,” Boyd says fondly. 

“You…” he points at Erica who grins and launches herself at Boyd. “You…” Boyd catches her and she punches him lightly on the arm. Stiles runs his hands through his hair. “What’s happening?” 

“How did I know about this then?” Erica stabs her finger into Boyd’s ribs and Boyd laughs, “or about your crazy afro stage? Or the job you had at the ice rink?” Boyd rolls his eyes and drops her onto the bed. 

“Seriously...what is happening? What is my life?” 

~~~~~

When Erica’s stopped tickling Boyd and Stiles has got his breathing under control, leaning down in his chair and putting his head between his legs, he looks between the two of them. They’re sitting beside each other on Boyd’s bed and Stiles can almost see it now, the connection between them. They’re not even touching but just by looking at them you could see how close they were, how wound into each other they were. 

“So what you going to do?” Erica asks and Boyd raises an eyebrow at her. 

“What did you do?” 

“She pursued me until I relented.” Boyd says simply and Erica punches him again. 

“I made him realise. I made him see. Part of him always did, but I had to be the one to make sure the other part caught up.” She shrugs a little and sticks her tongue out at Boyd. 

“So I have to be the one to...pursue Derek? Why me?” He looks at Erica and she touches his knee briefly. 

“Because as hot as he is,” Boyd digs his elbow into her ribs, “he seems a little...slow. I mean you said he could say nothing but your name the other day. He needs time to catch up.” 

“But...why can’t someone chase after me for once?” He has a flash of a memory, Derek howling like a wolf, chasing him around the tree whilst Stiles squealed in delight. He smiles to himself briefly. 

“Because you’re the smart one Stiles.” Erica points her finger at him. The nail is painted in a deep purple today, it catches the light from the window. 

“I don’t want to be the smart one. I want...I him to walk in here and say sorry for leaving me when I needed him the most. I want him to walk in here and not say anything, just…”

“Ok, I’ve heard enough,” Boyd stands and claps his hands together. “If you two are going to start talking about sex then I’m leaving.” Erica tugs on his sleeve. His sits right back down. 

“I’m so angry with him.” Stiles says suddenly, and he almost didn’t realise it himself. “I...fuck, I was so in love with him. Stupid 12 year old love but I was so in love with him. And he...and now he’s here,” Stiles stands and runs his hands through his hair. “He’s here,” he gestures out of the window, “and he’s here,” he taps his head and Erica presses her lips together, “but it’s almost like he’s further away than ever.” 

“Have you tried talking to him?” 

“He ran from me Erica, I mean practically ran. He won't talk to me. He won't even answer me in my dreams. God that sounds so pathetic.” He laughs sadly. “I sounds like a 14 year old girl.” 

“You are a little feminine,” Boyd says and Erica smacks him around the head with his pillow. 

“You listen to me,” she says, standing up and poking Stiles in the chest. “You march your skinny little butt…”

“Hey!”

“...Down to his room and you tell him.” Her eyes widen with passion and Stiles looks for help from Boyd. He shrugs. “You tell him everything. You hit him with the truth. You actually hit him if necessary.” 

“Shall we put a damper on the violence babe?” Boyd offers and Erica waves her hand at him again. 

“Stiles...go talk to him.”


	7. Chapter 7

Derek

~~~~~

He’s hours into work, his back aching but his fingers flying across his keyboard when there’s a tentative knock on the door and Derek feels a trail of electricity up his spine. 

“I can feel you sulking from my dorm,” Stiles is leaning against the door frame, arms folded over his chest and Derek turns slowly. 

“I’m not sulking.” 

“Oh...he speaks,” Stiles grins and pushes himself off from the door frame. He’s playing cocky but there’s a definite hint of tension in his shoulders, a hesitance to his step as he takes a step into Derek’s room. “Hey Sour Wolf.” 

His voice is soft, gentle. So personal that Derek feels like he’s whispering the words with Derek buried inside his body, Derek’s hands in his hair, their lips millimeters from each other, breathing each other in. He blinks at the image at the same time as Stiles raises an eyebrow. 

“Ok so that’s new,” he takes another step into Derek’s room and Derek fights the urge to take a step back. It’s so unnerving having Stiles here. Really here, solid and real in front of him. So real and grown in all the right places. “Not that I’m complaining.” 

“What do you want?” Derek can’t help the slight snap in his voice and Stiles seems to deflate some. 

“Well I wanted to talk to you, but I guess you don’t want to talk so I’ll go,” he turns to leave and Derek reaches out to him, before he can even think. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, he just knows that he can’t let Stiles walk out of this room right now. He wraps his fingers around his wrist and Stiles freezes, looks down at Derek’s fingers and Derek drops him. 

“This isn’t exactly easy for me.” 

Stiles barks out a bitter laugh. “You think this is easy for me? You always used to know what I was feeling. Well tell me Derek? What am I feeling right now?” 

“Stiles…” 

“We’re back to just Stiles again,” Stiles says bitterly, he turns to leave again but stops and rounds on Derek, his finger pointing into Derek’s chest. “I tried to convince myself you weren’t real. Like…” he throws his hands up, “you _couldn’t_ be. Dad always said I had an over active imagination so it wouldn’t be too surprising that I took the whole imaginary friend thing too far,” he laughs again, sadly, shoving his hands into his pockets like he’s trying to stop himself from touching Derek. “So I convinced myself I made you up. That it was just part of my…” he pauses, his eyes brimming with tears all of a sudden and Derek wants to pull him close, wants to take his sadness. “And then mom died,” Derek goes cold, “and...I spent years forgetting you, Derek. Making myself forget you, and the way you kissed me because you couldn’t be real, but I couldn’t. A part of me kept a hold of it, because what I felt for you was real. I may have been 12 and would have looked twice at anything that moved but what I felt for you...was one of the most real things I’ve ever had.” 

“Your mom died?” Derek wants to slap himself and Stiles raises an eyebrow again. 

“That’s the only thing you’re taking away from that outburst?” There’s a hint of incredulity in his voice and Derek wants to touch him again. 

“When?” Stiles runs a hand across his face, scrubbing the unshed tears from his eyes. 

“After you kissed me,” there’s a burst of noise from the hallway, freshmen laughing and Derek steps away from him and for a second Stiles looks like the 5 year old he first met, small and scared. 

“I thought…” _I thought you pushed me away, I thought you hated that I kissed you, I thought you hated me_. He pushes those thoughts to Stiles, wills him to hear them and Stiles just blinks. 

“Yeah well, you didn’t ask so…” He shrugs and he’s so cross at Derek right now, anger radiating off him and he smells like Derek imagines the colour red would smell. Derek wants to counter with Paige’s death, throw it back in his face that he lost someone too and _Stiles_ broke whatever their connection was. Stiles ignored him so much that their dreamscape fell to ruins, the tree rotting and the city nothing but rubble. 

“Come on Stiles, that’s not fair. You pushed me out.” _You broke us_. Stiles hears that one and his anger kicks up a notch, radiating off him like tangible heat. 

“I was a fucking kid and my mom died and you,” he stabs his finger back into Derek’s chest. “You stood me up to go on a _date_.”

“I didn’t know,” Derek goes to pull him close like he used to, wrap his arms around him and press his face to Stiles’ hair. He reaches out but Stiles’ shakes his head once and steps back. 

“Well, you should have. Because you were the one person that knew me better than anyone. You should have known. You should have felt it.” 

“You know what I did feel?” Derek snaps and Stiles blinks, takes a step backwards. “I felt you break us. I felt _that_. Did you?” He’s so tired, his eyes gritty and Stiles is standing right in front of him wanting answers and he wants to give them to him. He wants to tell him everything but the last time he opened up was to Paige. He feels a stab of pain in his chest at the thought of beautiful, brilliant Paige and Stiles swallows. “Did you feel it Stiles?” He takes a step forward and Stiles’ back hits the wall. He keeps advancing and Stiles’ pupils widen. 

“I felt it.” Stiles says and it’s quiet, like the fight’s gone from him. It’s not gone from Derek and suddenly he’s furious at the whole world. 

“You broke it Stiles. You. Not me. I may have not realised what was going on with you but you broke us. And you know what? I needed to you, too. You don’t get to be the only victim here. You don’t get the monopoly on pain.” Stiles swallows again, a bob of his throat and Derek watches the movement. Stiles’ throat is a line of pale skin in front of him, his pulse throbbing beneath the surface and Derek hears the trip of fear in his heart break.

“You kissed me,” Stiles says, his gaze flicking from Derek’s mouth back to his eyes. It’s such a simple statement but there’s so much behind it. Derek can’t move away from him. 

“I did,” he says, the fight gone from him too now, leaving behind an ache in his muscles and a headache building behind his eyes. 

“Did you mean it?” Stiles asks and he moves slightly, pushing himself from the wall and Derek stays where he is. It forces them closer and Derek can smell desire coming off Stiles now. Under it there’s the earthy smell that always followed Stiles around, and under that the hot red of anger. But it’s less now, want taking over. 

“I did.” He says again, Stiles nods and with sudden clarity Derek knows what Stiles is thinking. “Are you going to kiss me?” He asks and Stiles smiles, a little at first, widening for a second before his eyes flick down to Derek’s mouth for second. 

“Thinking about it,” Stiles replies, voice easy and honest and Derek nods, the tension broken, the fight gone from both of them. 

He wants that, he does. He’s never wanted anything else so much, he wants to kiss Stiles for real, to feel Stiles’ skin under his hands, to press their lips together and pull noises from Stiles’ mouth. Stiles’s breath hitches and Derek knows he felt that as well.

“There’s so much you don’t know about me,” he says, leaning forward slightly, he can feel Stiles’ breath on his lips now. Stiles reaches out and presses his palm to Derek’s chest. Not pushing, just holding there. 

“Then tell me.” Stiles lifts his head slightly, inviting Derek into his space and Derek wants this so much but the warning bells of Paige sound. He steps back and shakes his head. 

“I can’t, Stiles...I…” 

Stiles’ fingers find his hand, curls between his own fingers and it's like they’re kids again, sitting cross legged, face to face on the old tree stump. 

“I said I would let you hide for a while.” Stiles brings the words from their dream to life. “You don’t get forever.” He drops Derek’s hand.

“Stiles, I’m your TA.” He tries and Stiles lets out a small laugh. 

“You don’t get bullshit excuses either.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I’m here,” he gestures to the room, “I’m here…” he taps Derek on the temple, “and I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Stiles’ answer is a laugh, a mock salute and then he’s gone leaving Derek wondering why his own heart beat faster when Stiles touched him. 

~~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

“Hey I just met you,” Stiles sings and Boyd looks up from his laptop, “and this is crazy…” Boyd rolls his eyes, sticks his ear buds into his ears and stabs a button on his laptop. “But you know my class schedule...so i’ll see you maybe.” 

“ _Stiles, what are you doing?_ ” Derek’s voice sounds in his ear and it’s the first time Derek’s reached out since they saw each other. Stiles lets the thrill of happiness at the old familiar voice in his head trail over his skin. 

“Singing,” he answers quietly and he can practically feel a smile in Derek’s words. 

“ _You call that singing?_ ”

“You love it.” He feels when Derek shuts him out but he doesn’t feel hurt, just smiles to himself.

“Have you quite finished?” Boyd asks and Stiles spins on his chair. Boyd’s looking at him with his earbuds in his hands and Stiles wants to laugh at the crazy situation. He’s talking to the boy from his dreams in his head and his laconic room mate just rolls with it. 

“For now,” he replies and Boyd nods. “I’ve got class.” Boyd grunts in response and Stiles shoves his laptop into his bag. “Good chat.” Boyd waves and Stiles shuts the dorm room door behind him. There’s always noise in the hallway, even in the middle of the night but Stiles is used to it now. He makes his way through the other students, waving at a few of them. Erica’s waiting for him outside, sunglasses perched on her nose. She’s sitting on the steps of their building, leaning back on her hands. Her long legs stretched out in front of her. She tips her head back to look at him when he pushes the door open and not for the first time Stiles wonders how she knew he was there. 

“Hey,” she pushes herself to her feet, dusting her hands off on each other. 

“Why didn’t you come in?” Stiles asks and Erica links her arm with his. 

“He’s busy and I’ll only distract him,” she grins, her blood red lipstick immaculate as usual. “Let’s go learn, Batman.” 

~~~~~

Derek’s not in class but that’s not unusual. Stiles can for once focus on the professor. The class is interesting, focusing on the Greek myth of Lycaon. Stiles listens with rapt attention, ignoring the shifting of Erica in her seat next to him. There’s something off with her today but Stiles just focuses on the words of the professor. 

It’s not Dr Smith today and Stiles almost misses his calming voice. Professor Downing though is almost as interesting. She captures and holds the room and Stiles sits forward a little more when she starts to mention Lycaon finding the Druids. 

Lycaon was turned into a wolf by Zeus as a punishment and he sought out the Druids to help him. 

“Druids,” Professor Downing explains, “have always had a strong relationship with wolves. In some myths even werewolves.” She pauses for a few brave students to let out small laughs. “Of course the myth of werewolves is something else entirely but we cannot ignore the link between Lycaon and the word Lycanthropy.”

Erica shifts again in her seat next to him and Stiles glances at her briefly, she’s chewing on her thumb nail. Stiles frowns at her and she takes her thumb from her mouth and smiles weakly. 

“You ok?” He mouths and she nods absently. He focuses back on Professor Downing. 

“According to some legends, the Druids helped Lycaon but in a limited capacity, giving him the ability to hold onto his human form, losing that ability during…?” 

“The full moon,” someone from the front offers and Professor Downing points her pen at them. 

“Exactly. Many people believe that the myth of werewolves developed from those that suffer from hypertrichosis, the medical condition that creates unusually long facial hair. There are links to those suffering from Acquired Hypertrichosis and eating disorders, cancer, hormone imbalances, all of which may account for behavioural changes as well. However, only around 50 cases of Congenital Hypertrichosis have been recorded since the Middles Ages, first recorded in 1648, whereas Acquired is seemingly more common. Leading of course towards the myth that more werewolves are made rather than born.” She pauses and smiles. “And I’ve gone off on a tangent.” The class laughs a little but Stiles’ can't bring himself to laugh, there’s something just out of his reach, an idea, a conclusion forming in his mind.

“Druids,” Professor Downing says, “we started with Lycaon, but we’re leading to Druids. The earliest known references to the druids dates to the fourth century BC and the oldest description comes from Julius Caesar's _Commentarii de Bello Gallico_. He claimed that they were one of the two most important social groups alongside the nobles. They were exempt from military service and from the payment of taxes. Of course when we move onto Arthurian myths we’ll see how they were persecuted later on once the Romans had left Britain, taking their superstitions with them.” Stiles feels his mind try to reach for something, like he’s trying to remember something but he can’t remember what. He frowns. “Druids used nature to harness ‘magic’,” she uses finger quotes with a smile, “special trees or _nemetons_.” Something clicks in Stiles’ mind. Their tree, the one that was cut down. The one Stiles remembers climbing on top of and running his hands across the wood, telling Derek a story of how the good witches wanted to stop the bad witches from using it. “So we’re really starting to see how Greek, Roman and Celtic mythology are all interwoven, Greek and Roman, and Roman and Celtic due to the Roman invasion of Britain.” 

The class ends and Stiles can’t move. His mind whirring, stitching memories together in his head, forming a map of his and Derek’s life together, their dreams, their dreamscape. He struggles to take a breath and Erica curls two fingers under his chin and lifts his head. 

“You ok?” 

“I need to speak to Derek.” 

~~~~~

_He knows Derek won't talk to him in person, or in his head, so Stiles climbs onto the tree stump. The nemeton, Stiles thinks as he runs his hands over it. There are more lights shining down in Beacon-Topia than before and the moon is brighter then he can remember it being. He crosses his legs and waits and after a while the feeling of Derek hits him like a truck._

_He appears from the trees and Stiles holds his hand out to him. Derek pauses for a second, like he’s thinking about turning away but climbs up onto the tree with him. Once he’s settled Stiles reaches across to him, without speaking, runs his fingers up Derek’s jawline. Derek eyes flutter closed and he wraps his fingers around Stiles’s wrist. Stiles gets to his knees and Derek follows him, moving closer together and Stiles leans forward, presses his lips to Derek’s like he’s wanted to do since the last time. Six years ago. Six years spent wanting this again and he kisses Derek like he’s trying to tell Derek all of it. Derek lets out a small noise in the back of his throat, his fingers tighten around Stiles’ wrist. The wood beneath their knees warms, the rings of the tree glowing slightly and Stiles feels like he’s finally home._

_Derek pulls away first, eyes seemingly glowing ice blue but when Stiles blinks they’re back to normal. He’s looking at Stiles like he wants everything but can’t bring himself to ask for it, let alone to take it._

_“I think I know something about you, but I need you to tell me,” Stiles says, his fingers still playing against Derek’s jew. Derek leans into the touch and pulls away, pushing himself to his feet._

_“Stiles I can’t.”_

_“Derek, look at this place.” Stiles spreads his hands out, staying where he is although every fibre of his being is screaming at him to touch Derek again. “Look at this tree. It’s a nemeton, but you know that. You know so much that you’re not telling me.”_

_“I don’t.” He sounds helpless and hurt and Stiles sits back down, folding his hands into his lap. “Paige died.” He says suddenly and Stiles feels the air leave his lungs._

_“What happened?”_

_“I happened.” Derek makes his way around the tree, always moving and Stiles follows him with his eyes. Derek’s fingers trail over the wood. “Please don’t make me say it.” He pleads and Stiles stands, makes his way over to him. Derek takes a step back when Stiles jumps down in front of him._

_“I’m not going anywhere.”_

_“That’s what Paige said,” Derek looks at him, “I can’t lose you too.” It’s open and heartbreakingly honest and more than Stiles has got from him since they’d met and Stiles wants to cry for him._

_“You think I could run from this even if I wanted to?” Stiles asks and reaches out to touch the back of Derek’s hand. Derek turns his hand, and captures Stiles’ fingers, twisting their hands until their fingers curl together, held between them. “There’s a reason we’re both here, Derek and I need you to help me figure it out.”_

_“Stiles, I can’t, I…”_

_“Stop being such a coward.” Stiles snaps, dragging his hand from Derek’s. Derek looks like Stiles punched him. He takes a step back and the moon disappears behind a cloud._

_“You don’t know what you’re asking for.” Derek replies, he sounds hurt and lost._

_“I’m asking for the truth.” Stiles counters and Derek shakes his head. Stiles can feel himself waking just as Derek replies._

_“I’m not sure I can give that to you.”_


	8. Chapter 8

Derek

~~~~~

Derek can’t focus on the words Dr Smith is saying. His mind is focused on Stiles, always on Stiles. Stiles kissing him, Stiles begging for answers that Derek can’t give him. _Stiles_.

“Derek?” 

“Sorry,” he shakes his head and Dr Smith looks long-sufferingly at him.

“May I assume this has something to do with the Freshman from the other day?” Derek looks across his desk at him. 

“I know him, or at least I used to. It's a long story,” he sighs and runs a hand over his face.

“You feel like telling it to me?” There’s always been something that Derek trusted about Dr Smith, right from the very start. So he does. He tells him everything. He tells him what he is, the dreams, talking to Stiles when he was awake, he tells him about Paige, about losing Stiles. Words spilling from his lips like he can’t stop them and when he finishes he feels lighter somehow. 

Dr Smith just looks at him, fingers linked together, chin resting on his thumbs. There’s no judgement, no fear on his face. Just total understanding and Derek draws in a ragged breath. 

“I suspected that you were a wolf.” Dr Smith says and Derek feels his eyes widen. Dr Smith holds out a hand like he’s calming Derek and Derek grips the arms of the chair. “Yes, I know about werewolves. I know a lot more than you think I would.” He smiles, softly, gently like he’s trying not to scare Derek. “That’s why you were so interested in soulmates and Quantum Entanglement the other day? Because of Stiles? Why Stiles is so interested in dream theory?” 

“You think it’s possible?” Derek asks and he sounds small. 

“I think anything is possible. I think myths are just stories about things that we can’t explain. The myth of werewolves is prevalent all over the world and I have one sitting right in front of me. We spoke about Nemetons last semester and you’re telling me about a dream with a large tree in a clearing, that clearly has a connection to the both of you. You’re telling me you dreamt about a boy for years, spoke to him, and now he’s here. Did it ever occur to you that Stiles is in your life for a reason?” Dr Smith pauses as Derek takes it all in. Stiles has always maintained there was something magical between the two of them, his imagination fueling their dreams, making the tree glow. But what if it wasn’t just Stiles? What is it was the both of them together? “There are two outcomes. Either you’re crazy, in which case I am as well and that’s not something I want to try and dissect,” he smiles again and hands Derek a mug of coffee from the machine behind him. “Or the world is a more magical place than people think.”

Derek wraps his hands around the mug and stares down into the dark liquid. Stiles is here and he ran. _Stiles_. The boy was so important to him for so many years and he just fled from him. Derek still feels his fingers along his jaw and Stiles’ lips against his own. There’s a quiet hum of static in the back of his head and Derek didn’t realise how much he missed it when it wasn’t there. 

“I can’t even make sense of this, how can you?” Derek says and Dr Smith shrugs a little. 

“I guess when you know what I know, when you’ve seen what I’ve seen, and you live to be the age that I am,” his eyes twinkle when he says that, “then you grow to have either a closed mind, or an open one. I choose open.” 

“What have you seen?” 

“Why do you think I teach what I teach?” Dr Smith answers Derek question with one of his own and Derek contemplates it quietly, taking a sip from his coffee. It’s late again and his eyes are heavy, brain fuzzy from today. “I think perhaps you need to remember that if you’re going through this, then so is he. And perhaps I need to pay more attention to Stiles in the future.” He adds the last bit almost to himself but Derek is already on his feet. 

“I have to go,” He says and Dr Smith smiles again. 

“Thought you might.” 

“Thank you Dr Smith.” 

~~~~~

The campus is quiet at this time of night, the sparsely dotted around path lights spill a little light around, enough that the security camera can pick up anything that happens, and it’s enough that Derek can see clearly. He feels clearly for the first time since he saw Stiles as well. 

Stiles is his, he’s part of him, and Stiles deserves so much more than Derek’s given him. Stiles is...Derek’s mind draws a blank for a moment, Stiles’ face in the forefront of it, Stiles kissing him, his soft voice using the nickname he gave Derek all those years ago.

He’s so stupidly in love with Stiles and has been his entire life and it’s taken up until now to realise it. 

He almost laughs at himself and he hears his mother's voice again. 

_If he’s real to you, then that’s enough_. 

Stiles was so much more than just real to Derek, Stiles was his everything. And Stiles is here, pushing Derek, working his way back into Derek’s life and not taking no for an answer. He knows it will only be a matter of time before Stiles gives up. He said he wouldn’t let Derek hide forever but there’s only so much that one person can give before they relent. 

“Stiles…” Derek reaches out and almost immediately he hears the hum in his head kick up a notch. 

“ _Derek?_ ” Stiles sounds happy, confused but happy to hear him and Derek can’t help but smile to himself. 

“I need to tell you something. I’m coming to you.” 

~~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

He’s moping. He knows his is and Erica keeps sighing at him and rolling her eyes. They’re at a party and Stiles would rather be anywhere but here. He woke this morning with a headache behind his eyes, his mouth still tasting of Derek and a figurative rain cloud the size of Michigan over his head. 

“Would you try and have some fun?” Erica snaps, but its good natured and Stiles sticks his tongue out at her. Boyd’s, once again, dominating the Beer Pong table, and Stiles not for the first time, wonders how he got such a good aim.

“I think that’s Boyd’s superpower,” he says and Erica looks at her boyfriend across the room. She smiles fondly but turns back to Stiles. 

“What? Beer Pong?” 

“No, his aim. I mean, no one is that good surely?” Boyd effortlessly throws the ping pong ball and it drops straight into the red cup. The guys he’s playing with groan but down the beer anyway. Their throw goes wide, skipping off the top of the cup. 

“He’s just lucky.” 

Stiles is still trying to wrap his head around these two, about him meeting another pair who dreamt of each other. Two people who are seemingly more connected than him and Derek. Boyd looks up from the beer pong match and Erica looks back at him. A silent conversation passes between them, Erica’s lips barely moving but Boyd nods and Stiles frowns at them both. Erica’s nostrils flare and Stiles realises she does that a lot. 

“Erica…” She looks back at him. “How long have you been a werewolf?” Boyd freezes across the room and Erica lets out a slightly forced laugh. Stiles doesn’t know where it comes from but his mind has been whirring since his last lecture with Professor Downing. Pieces slotting together like a jigsaw puzzle and he’s finally starting to see the bigger picture.

“How much have you had to drink Batman?” He just raises an eyebrow and Erica sighs, looking back across at Boyd as he strides across the party towards them. 

“I think perhaps we should have this conversation elsewhere,” he says and Stiles reaches out a hand to him. He’s had a few beers and his limbs are pleasantly loose. Boys hauls him to his feet, and slightly more gently pulls Erica to hers. 

It’s not until they’re outside that Erica says anything. 

“I was 15.” She says, her hand clutched in Boyd’s. “Have you ever seen anyone have an epileptic fit?” She asks and Stiles shakes his head. “It’s not pretty but I never knew what I looked like until someone filmed me and put it on YouTube.” Stiles wants to hurt people for her, he wants to pulls her close and never let anyone hurt her again. Boyd lets go of her hand and wraps his arm around her instead. She looks so tiny next to him. “I saw a way out and I took it.” 

“Me too,” Boyd says simply and there’s something in his tone that Stiles doesn’t ask any further questions about why to him. Erica tucks herself further into Boyd’s side.

“What are you…” Erica starts and Stiles gets the sudden feeling things haven’t been all sunshine and rainbows for them since this happened. She looks scared.

“I’m going to still be your friend...if I’m allowed?” Erica’s face breaks into a smile and she pulls Stiles in a brief but tight hug. “I have so many questions though. Is it a full shift? Like into a full on wolf or something from _Dog Soldiers_? Or more like you just grow hair in strange places and get angry...bit like puberty? Can you really howl? Can you control it? What do I smell like? Do you mate for life?” Erica sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose. 

“Starting to wish you never met him,” Boyd says to her and Stiles punches him lightly. 

“You love me. Do you remember what you do on your shift? Is it called a shift?”

“Oh shut up Stiles.” He grins but he can feel himself bouncing from one foot to the other and that’s when he hears it. The familiar hum in the back of his head and Derek’s voice breaks through. 

“ _Stiles…_ ” He smiles. 

“Derek?” Erica rolls her eyes and makes fake gagging noises with Boyd.

“ _I need to tell you something. I’m coming to you._ ” The hum stops and Stiles feels the final piece drop into place. 

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~

Stiles is waiting on the steps of his dorm building when Derek gets there and even from where he stands he can feel the nervous energy radiating off him. Stiles, like he feels Derek, looks up from where he’s rapidly tapping his fingers against his knees and smiles. It’s hesitant but genuine and Derek’s chest blooms with warmth. 

He makes it to Stiles in a few strides and Stiles stands as he gets closer. He opens his mouth to speak but Derek pulls him close and kisses him before he can say anything. Before Derek loses his nerve. Stiles lets out a noise of surprise and Derek swallows it, winding an arm around Stiles, his hand flat on Stiles’ back, and pulls him closer. Stiles’ skin burns through his clothes and is like a brand on Derek’s palm. Stiles’s hands are pressed to Derek’s chest, and his fingers curl into his Henley, blunt fingernails scratching at Derek’s skin.

It’s the same as when he kissed him when Stiles was 12, never kissed before. It’s same but totally and utterly different. It’s like coming home and discovering something new all at the same time and Derek just holds on, kisses him deeper and Stiles kisses him back.

When Derek eventually pulls away, words he needs to say just behind his lips, Stiles’ face breaks out into a brilliant smile, his bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“That was better than in my dreams,” he laughs and Derek wants to kiss him all over again. “So listen,” Stiles begins and Derek wants to stop him but Stiles has got that coiled tension burning through his body. “I know what you are and I don’t care and I don’t know what happened with Paige but if you told her and she left Derek, I can promise you I’m not going anywhere,” he pauses to drag in a breath, his fingers still curled into Derek’s shirt. Derek blinks at the onslaught of words, caught between wondering how the hell this brilliant boy figured everything out and hoping he can’t possibly know everything. “And my friend, Erica...crazy hot, crazy eyes, blonde? She’s a werewolf,” Derek takes a step back. Stiles had figured everything out. He’d known himself from the moment he met her outside the lecture hall what she was. He’d felt other wolves as soon as they’d walked onto campus. “And her and her…” Stiles continues, his hands are still balled into Derek’s shirt and he’s tugging him closer, Derek lets him. “Her what would you call it? Mate? They have a bond like ours Derek. And when I figured it out about her it just snapped into place and everything else did too. The nemeton, the wolf howling always in our dreams and you and us and it just made sense and so yeah…” he pauses again, dragging in another breath and kisses Derek, quick and full on the mouth. “Erica. I was her. She helped me figure it out. She’s cool by the way, do you have a pack because you should have her in it.” 

“Erica has a pack,” Derek answers for lack of anything else to say, shaking his head although he’s not sure if it’s as Stiles’ suggestion or the words whirling in his head. “They come from SoCal, I’ve met their Alpha.” 

“Yeah ok fine, whatever,” Stiles waves a hand absently and Derek wonders what the hell this boy is, how he can be so easy going about this whole situation. His best friend here, her boyfriend and his...Derek pauses in thought, his what? Boyfriend? Mate? Soulmate? Anyway, Erica, Boyd and now Derek are werewolves and he’s talking about building a pack. He shakes his head again and smiles bemusedly at Stiles. “I mean our Pack of course. We should have her in our pack...Ooh and Scott. We need Scott, he’s a vet. Or he will be. And Lydia but trust me you’ll love her and I think she’s kinda supernatural anyway, she always seems to know everything but yeah…” he trails off and bounces on his toes. Derek cups his hands around Stiles’ face and realises he’s had the dreaded conversation without saying a word. Stiles took that burden from him. Stiles’ words make their way into his mind, filtering in word by word. 

“We have a pack?” He can’t help the hope seeping into his words and Stiles blinks, his excitement gone like he doesn’t read the eagerness in Derek’s voice. He seems to deflate a little. 

“Well yeah, I mean we would. Wouldn’t we?” Derek can’t help the smile that breaks out onto his face and Stiles pulls him forward and kisses him again, pressing his answer into Stiles’ mouth. _Yes, yes, a thousand times yes_. Derek’s hand finds its way under Stiles’ shirt, presses flat against his back and Stiles presses himself to Derek, from chest to knees, groaning into Derek’s mouth and Derek needs to get his hands all over Stiles’ body. And soon. 

Stiles pulls back and huffs out a laugh. 

“Can you stop thinking explicit thoughts?” Derek pulls back, cups his hands around Stiles’ face and stares at him, dumbfounded, hopelessly and utterly in love with this ball of nervous energy in front of him. 

“Where did you come from?” He asks and it’s rhetorical, and he’s definitely not expecting Stiles to answer the way he does. 

“Beacon Hills,” he says simply and Derek feels like he’s going to throw up. 

“What?”

“What what?” Stiles looks confused and worried. “You know it?” 

“Stiles,” he wants to laugh, he wants to hit something at all the wasted time, the years between them when the distance was so small. “My family live in Beaconsville.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? All these years and you were two towns over in the same fucking county?” Stiles runs a hand through his hair, it’s too long but Derek wants to run his own hands through it, to grab a handful and tug Stiles’ head back, baring his throat. Stiles sways a little. “Seriously, stop doing that unless you’re going to take me to bed.” 

He holds his hand out to Stiles, “my room’s 5 minutes from here.” 

~~~~~

Stiles

~~~~~

They walk in silence, Derek’s hand in his own and Stiles can’t stop the smile on his face. The pieces of their separate lives are starting to come together and Stiles wants to find each piece and examine it. Look closely at the edges, putting them together one by one until all he can see is them. 

Derek squeezes his hand a little as he pushes the door to the building open. There’s a sense of urgency in him now and Stiles feels it too. They’ve spent so long knowing each other, too long apart and now there’s nothing stopping them. Except a seemingly never ending hallway and Derek’s room keys.

Stiles wants to explore seeing Derek’s thought, seeing those images in his own mind. He wants to explore their connection now they’re together but Derek closes the door behind them and pushes Stiles up against it. He pauses, like he’s waiting for Stiles to give him permission, so Stiles curls his fingers into the waistband of Derek’s pants and tugs him forward. 

“Are you going to kiss me?” He asks and without answering, Derek does, licking into Stiles’ mouth and pressing his hips forward and it makes sense that they would move at the speed of lightning now that they can. For some it would be too soon, so unsure of who the other person was but for them? For them this was a completion, a coming together that was 13 years in the making. Derek runs his hands down Stiles’ arms, linking their fingers together and lifting them above Stiles’ head. He presses his hips forward again, and Stiles pulls their mouths apart to let his head fall back against the door. Derek’s mouth finds his neck, his throat, licks at the skin thumping softly with Stiles’ pulse and all Stiles can do is squeeze Derek’s fingers and let him.

“Shit...Do that again,” Derek huffs out a dark chuckle against the hollow of Stiles’ throat and Stiles lifts his head. Derek lifts his and their eyes meet. 

“I’m so sorry,” Derek says suddenly like he can’t help himself and Stiles shakes his head.

“For what?” His neck still burns from Derek’s stubble and for the life of him Stiles can’t figure out why Derek is apologising. 

“For not being there, for…” 

“Hey no. Don’t” Stiles tugs his hands from Derek’s grip and runs his fingers across Derek’s cheekbone. “I broke us.” Derek starts to protest but Stiles claps his hand over his mouth. Derek raises an eyebrow at him. “I had a dream about my mother just after she died and she told me not to break it. I didn’t know what it was at the time but I think she meant us.” Derek’s other eyebrow joins the first and Stiles takes his hand from his mouth. “What?” 

“It was you.” He sounds incredulous and Stiles frowns. “Of course it was you. It’s so obvious now.”

“Dude, wanna fill me in?” 

“Right before…” he pauses and Stiles thinks he might be in pain. He presses a hand to Derek’s chest. “Right before whatever this is, was, broke, I had a dream about a man who told me ‘don’t let him break it’. Fuck Stiles that was you. I mean you, now.”

“So this goes deeper than we thought then?” Stiles says and he wants to explore this but he wants Derek’s hands on him more. Derek nods, seemingly at a loss for words. “Can we explore it tomorrow and can you just be kissing me now?” Derek half smiles, covering Stiles’ hand with his own and Stiles feel his skin warm from the inside. 

“I am so in love with you.” It’s so achingly perfect, the way Derek says it, like is the most obvious thing in the world, like it so normal to say, like Derek can’t hold it in anymore that Stiles huffs out a laugh, tugging Derek back to him and sliding a thigh between his. 

“Me too, Sour Wolf.” Derek laughs but it turns into something else when Stiles grinds his thigh upwards into Derek’s crotch. It’s a growl and it should scare Stiles but he feels it low in his belly, coiling through his bloodstream. “Oh you’re going to make that noise again.” 

“Make me.” Derek challenges and Stiles grins, pulls his hoodie over his head and gets his hands on the button on Derek’s pants. Derek takes a step backwards, covering Stiles’ hands with his own, pulling him with him and Stiles goes, fumbling with the button and popping it open after far too long a time. Derek groans as Stiles worms his hand inside and Derek’s already half hard. Stiles has had a few fumblings with a few people before. But nothing like this, nothing like his skin feeling on fire, nothing like feeling he’s exactly where he should be. Stiles gets his hand around Derek and Derek curls his own fingers around his wrist. “Are you sure?” 

“Never been more sure of anything,” Stiles says and Derek pulls his shirt over his head. “Jesus,” Stiles breathes out and Derek really should be illegal. His skin is tanned, perfect, unmarked by any scars, he runs his hands over Derek’s chest. It moves under his touch, Derek dragging a breath into his lungs. Stiles runs his fingers down the centre of his chest, following the tempting line of hair, pushes them back into Derek’s pants. Derek takes a step back, pulling Stiles with him again and tugs him close, kisses him until Stiles can’t see straight anymore. He feels the world tip under his feet and finds himself flat on his back on Derek’s bed, with Derek looking predatorily down at him. Stiles sits up and pulls his own shirt over his head. Derek stops, blinks and moves, coming down to meet Stiles with a groan falling from his lips. He pushes it into Stiles’ mouth and Stiles swallows it greedily, wrapping a leg around Derek and arching his hips upwards. Derek runs a hand up Stiles’ side, fingers playing over Stiles’ ribs, up the soft skin on the back of his arm, over the bend his elbow, lifting Stiles’ arm and pressing it into the pillow. His hand makes it way back down, over Stiles’ chest, fingers slotting into the spaces between his ribs as Derek sits, straddled over Stiles’ thighs. 

“Look at you,” he says and Stiles hears it loud and clear in his head, the words buzz around his brain and he feels himself flush at the scrutiny. Derek pushes himself backwards, fingers popping open Stiles’ jeans and tugging them down his thighs. There’s a struggle with Stiles’ Converse’s, a struggle that makes them both laugh as Derek pulls them off, throws them over his shoulder and finally gets his jeans off as well. Stiles can see his own cock, hard, boxers tenting and Derek growls, low in his throat, pressing his lips to Stiles’ stomach. Stiles doesn’t have the time to crow in achievement before there’s a hint of teeth and Stiles sucks in a sharp breath, hands going to Derek’s hair. Stiles can feel Derek’s breath against his cock, hot and wet through the material of his boxers and he whines, arching his hips again as Derek gets his fingers curled into the waistband and tugs. He rubs his cheek across Stiles’ thigh, pressing his lips to the skin, breathing in and he looks at Stiles up the length of his body. His eyes are ice blue. 

“Derek,” it’s a plea and Derek blinks, his eyes back to normal, leans down and takes Stiles’ cock in his mouth. He hums and it mirrors the hum in Stiles’ brain, Derek rolling his balls gently in his hand, one finger sliding backwards, pressing lightly and Stiles wants more, wants it all. He’s so close to coming already, it feels like he’s been waiting for this for so long, and Derek, seemingly sensing that, pulls off and stands, pushing his own jeans down his thighs. He’s not wearing boxers and Stiles will acknowledge just what a turn on that is for him later, right now he wants Derek inside.

Derek reaches into a drawer by Stiles’ head, pulls out a condom and a bottle of lube and crawls back over Stiles. He looks at them in his hands and Stiles pushes himself to his elbows. 

“You ok?”

“I am,” Derek replies and he seems taken by surprise at that and Stiles loves him even more. They’ll talk later, faces inches apart, words whispered between them like secrets, they’ll talk and work out how and why but right now Stiles needs him closer. He leans back and arches his hips the best he can with Derek sitting across his thighs and that seems enough to get Derek to move. He scoots back, slipping one knee between Stiles’ legs, ripping the small foil packet open. Stiles wants to help him, wants to roll it down his cock, wants to taste Derek but Derek rolls the condom on himself, runs a hand down Stiles’ thigh and lifts it. The snap of the lube bottle lid is loud in the near silence of the room and Stiles sucks in a breath as Derek presses a finger inside him. He groans, pushing himself down on Derek’s hand and Derek adds another, spreading them slightly, curling them deep inside and Stiles sees stars. 

“Shit, do _that_ again,” Derek does and Stiles practically bites through his bottom lip, back arching off the bed. Derek lays his hand flat against Stiles’ belly, pressing him back down, pushing another finger inside him. “Derek please.” Derek pulls his fingers out, lines himself up and pushes in. 

“Fuck,” the word his breathed out as Derek curls over him, presses his forehead to Stiles’, “God Stiles I didn’t…” he struggles to talk and Stiles knows the feeling. This is it, them, this is how it’s meant to be and Stiles can’t find the words either. “So perfect.” 

Derek pulls out, almost all the way and pushes slowly back in, does it again, pushes in further and Stiles can’t get enough, grips at Derek’s shoulders and he feels his fingernails press into Derek’s skin. He wants to see those little half moons later, run his fingers over them but he knows they’ll heal. 

“More,” he spits the word out and Derek kisses him, pushing all the way in in such a way every particle of air leaves his body, driven from him. “Again.” 

Derek does it again, sets a rhythm that has both of them groaning, talking words with no meanings, fingers sliding over skin, lips moving against each other and Stiles feels his orgasm building at the base of his spine and it’s almost over to quickly. Derek gets a hand between them, wraps it around Stiles’ cock, runs a thumb across the head, its slides through the pre come and he twists his hand and Stiles comes. Hard enough that he swears he blacks out for a second, limbs going loose and lax as Derek pushes all the way back in and comes himself, his forehead pressed to Stiles’. 

Around the time the sweat on his skin starts cooling and he feels a shiver go up his spine, Derek pulls the duvet over them and tucks Stiles into his side. 

“I’m sticky,” he says and Derek laughs, gently.

“You smell like us,” he says, pressing his nose to the pressure point behind Stiles’ ear. Stiles wants to answer but he can’t, body comfortably numb, pressed to Derek’s, their legs and lives tangled together. 

Later they’ll talk, they’ll work this all out and what it means. How they fit into each other’s lives, they’ll come to terms with the fact that this is it for each other but now Stiles presses a kiss to the centre of Derek’s chest and wonders if they’ll dream together. 

~~~~~

Derek

~~~~~

Years later someone will ask how they met. Stiles laughs and says “I dreamed him.” 

Derek smiles and responds with a simple “We grew up together.”


End file.
